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lala-ladybug · 4 years ago

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Healing Hands: Chapter 1

Hello hello! First fic here, it’s a Maribat AU with a side of Sword Art Online. Or what I remember from having watched the show once about five years ago. We’ve got Marinette and minimal class salt, Young Justice but only the good parts, and primarily Jasonette. Please spread the word (I am a tiny sideblog) and let me know what you think <3

Read here on AO3

Chapter 1: You have no idea how many baddies I’m going to blow up because of you

Friday, at long last. Marinette could not have exhaled a bigger sigh of relief. It was mid-way through the school term, her commissions were ramping up, and Hawkmoth had become frustratingly active. Her duties as class president had only increased as she and her friends neared the end of lycée, not to mention all the studying she was doing for the baccalauréat on top of her regular school work. Commissions were booming now that her popularity as the anonymous designer MDC was soaring worldwide. She wouldn’t give any of it up for the world, but she might enjoy getting more than three or four hours of sleep for once.

There was only part of her life that had gotten easier since that day three years ago when she was entrusted with a pair of spotted earrings and an old god to match. Ladybug started out with one partner, but she now had a whole team to share the responsibilities of keeping their city safe. Ryuko and Viperion became permanent fixtures of the Parisian rooftops, and Bourdonne replaced Queen Bee after the infamous (albeit self-inflicted) unmasking of Chloe Bourgeois. The people of Paris looked to these heroes with pride and trust.

And Marinette Dupain-Cheng, now the Guardian of the Miraculous, looked to her partners with trust as well. She had decided that with her in charge, she could no longer keep secrets from her friends, from her new Order of the Guardians. She discussed it with Chat Noir, and he had smiled and agreed that it was time. And one day, when Ladybug gathered her teammates on a remote rooftop in the dead of night, she said only “I trust you,” before allowing her transformation to fall.

She wasn’t nervous, not really. She knew Kagami and Luka had good hearts, and she had seen firsthand how much Chloe had grown. Those three accepted her civilian self, her true self, without half a thought, and followed their leader in dropping their transformations as well. Chloe got her quips in while Ladybug looked to Chat Noir.

He passed his gaze over the faces of their friends and smirked like he was holding in a laugh. As he said “Claws in,” Marinette could hear the laugh in his voice, an intonation that sounded so very familiar, and oh. Of course.

Adrien Agreste beamed at his friends, both in the mask and out, and said fondly, “I’m so glad it’s you.”

The rest, of course, was history. For the year and a half since then, the five heroes of Paris had kept the city safe from threats magical and mundane alike. Hawkmoth had, of course, gotten craftier and more vicious with his attacks, sometimes choosing to send bursts of weaker akumas over the span of a week, sometimes waiting a month before sending an especially brutal villain their way.

But it was nothing that the Order of the Guardians couldn’t handle. Even though it could get exhausting after a while, which is why the incoming weekend was a welcome reprieve. There was another reason why this particular weekend was so exciting, which was that a new video game, Mindscape, was debuting. It would be released at midnight EST, which was 6:00 in the morning for Paris.

“Today’s the day, girl!” Alya squealed as she flagged Marinette down on their way to the classroom. “We are so lucky that our class won that raffle to get these exclusive passes. I bet I’ll be the first blog to get the scoop on this new tech they’re using!”

Marinette giggled and started to reply, “Super lucky, right? I’m excited too, I heard--”

“You know,” Lila cut her off as she sidled up to Alya. “I’m not saying that I didn’t enter us to get those downloads, but I was a big help with beta testing.”

How she managed to time that comment just as the three girls crossed the threshold of the classroom, and how she managed to know that nearly the whole class would already be there to hear it, Marinette would never understand. She only had to wait a moment before the rest of their friends rushed to the door to thank Lila.

“This opportunity is amazing, we are incredibly grateful!” Max was first in line, ever the technology-enthusiast.

Kim pushed his shorter friend out of the way and vigorously shook Lila’s hand. “You have no idea how many baddies I’m going to blow up because of you.” Lila looked a little overwhelmed as he continued to shake her hand all the while, and she gave him a nervous smile.

He was soon pushed out of the way as Alix muscled her way to the front next. “I definitely owe you for giving me the chance to kick his ass in a brand new way!” She jerked her head to where Kim had landed on the floor, pouting at her.

As the rest of the class who would be joining them in the game’s premiere expressed their thanks, Alya looked on with an affectionate smile. She was so very happy that she now had two kind, selfless best friends. Her smile fell a little as she noticed Marinette stoically edging her way around the crowd and up to her seat, not having said a word to Lila. Alya just wished that her two besties would get along.

Alya put a hand on Lila’s shoulder and smiled her thanks before following Marinette to what was once their shared desk. “You really should thank her, you know,” Alya implored hopefully.

Without turning around to face Alya, Marinette paused and shared an incredulous look with Adrien, who was already seated at his shared desk with Nino. She then shrugged and replied, “Lila never actually said that she got us the passes,” before continuing up the steps to her seat at the back of the class. Alya shook her head and sat down. It was always like this, a cool indifference from Marinette whenever Lila came up. They were both such incredible people, Alya couldn’t understand why they didn’t get along.

As for Marinette, she was semi-content to let Lila be as long as her lies didn’t hurt anybody. Her unrealistic promise to take away all of Marinette’s friends was never fulfilled, and honestly the amount of emotional energy it used to sap from her just wasn’t worth it anymore. Marinette had no idea how Lila was going to get her hands on a copy of the game when Mari was, of course, the one who had won the raffle. She distributed the special access passes herself, and Lila certainly hadn’t gotten one. If this was the way that she wanted to make friends, she would eventually have to face the consequences.

But for now, Lila was basking in her praise. That is, until she glanced at her phone and gave a small gasp of dismay.

“What’s wrong?” Rose asked, concern already etched on her face.

Lila covered her mouth with one hand and started rapidly blinking back tears. “It’s my VIP copy of the game. There was a mixup in the mail and it won’t get here in time for tomorrow morning! I’m so sorry everyone, it looks like you’ll have to do it without me....” She buried her face in her hands and her shoulders trembled with barely restrained sobs.

The class shared a worried look, and Sabrina piped up, “It’s okay Lila, you can borrow my copy.” Lila immediately looked up and surged forward to clasp the hands of her friend.

“Really? But won’t it have the same problem?” Sabrina smiled and shook her head. “Nope, it’s a digital download! I don’t mind, you can always trade it back when your VIP pass arrives later.”

Lila gave her a brilliant smile, any tears long-since dried. “Oh, thank you so much Sabrina! I’ll see what I can do about getting you a VIP pass too once mine gets here.”

At that moment, Chloe walked in, and one look at the scene displayed in front of her had her rolling her eyes at her former best friend. She gracefully swept up the steps to join Marinette at the back of the classroom and whispered to her, “Aren’t they all digital downloads?”

Marinette, who had started unpacking her bag to prepare for class, inclined her head and gave the blonde a meaningful look that indicated yes, they were indeed all digital downloads. Chloe snickered and started preparing her own side of the desk.

After the fiasco of outing herself as Queen Bee, Chloe had lost the minimal support and tolerances she had been allowed before. It gave her time to truly reflect on how she acted and treated other people. She had since been quietly making amends with those she’d wronged, and the person on the top of that list was Marinette Dupain-Cheng. It took time and a lot of effort on Chloe’s part, but she mellowed out and did a lot of growing up. She still spoke her mind, though.

“Huh that’s strange, I got the VIP package too, but mine was a digital pass,” Chloe loudly proclaimed, studying her nails nonchalantly as the rest of the class turned to look up at her.

Lila grit her teeth into a forced smile and replied sweetly, “Well that’s because mine was an original beta testing copy that they had to update for the full game.” She turned her attention to Marinette and a note of false concern crept into her voice. “Oh Marinette, I hope you’ll still have time to come too! I know you’ll be busy this weekend with planning the spring class field trip. It would be such a shame if it didn’t happen because you were too busy playing a video game.”

Marinette suddenly felt very warm under the gazes of the entire class. She stammered out, “Oh-of course we’ll get to go! Don’t worry, I have a meeting with the school board on Monday.” Trust Lila to sniff out the one thing that had slipped below her radar.

Lila’s eyes lit up with an opportunistic gleam. “That’s great! Where will it be?”

“Well, uh, the school board has to review the location, so I don’t want to get your hopes up, but I can tell you that it will be in, um,” her eyes flicked around wildly and landed on the posterboard of different flags from the prior week’s lessons. “America!”

The class burst into excited chatter moments before Madame Bustier arrived and the late bell rang. Marinette released a breath and sagged in her seat. Saved by the bell.

Chloe gave her a sidelong glance and murmured, “America, huh?”

“Shut up,” Marinette shot back.

* * *

Madame Bustier tried to get the class to pay attention, she really did. They struggled through their lessons before lunch, the volume of side conversations between deskmates swelling all the while. The moment the bell for lunch dismissal rang, the students exploded into conversation as they left the classroom.

Marinette waved as Chloe and Adrien walked off to go meet Kagami and Luka at a nearby cafe. She breezed into the patisserie across the street from Francois Dupont and gave her surprised Maman a kiss on the cheek.

“I thought you were going out with your friends for lunch?” Sabine asked, balancing a tray of eclairs on her hip. “I forgot I have to plan our class trip!” Marinette replied cheerfully as she hurried into the kitchen to quickly fix herself a croque-monsieur. She gave her Papa a hug as she finished preparing her meal. He shouted up at her to not make a mess as she retreated into her room to eat at her desk.

She gave a small snort at that. It was nearly impossible for her to make a mess of food when she had over a dozen Kwami there to clean up after her, but he didn’t know that. She greeted said Kwami with a delighted grin and a wave as she set her plate down by her desktop computer.

“Marinette, why are you back so early?” Tikki asked, “is everything okay?” The other Kwami swarmed around her as she woke her computer up and logged in.

The girl waved one hand nonchalantly and opened up a web browser with the other. “Everything’s fine, I just forgot about planning the class trip!” She took a huge bite of the sandwich and started typing furiously. Several Kwami dove after the crumbs that sprayed everywhere.

“Ohhh, I see! Do you have an idea of where to start?” Tikki zoomed around Marinette’s shoulder to hover next to the monitor screen.

Marinette had the same determined gleam in her eye as when she finally found the perfect fabric for a design. She said confidently around a mouth full of ham, “America.”

* * *

By the time the lunch break had finished, Marinette had a preliminary list of cities on the East Coast of the United States. She had researched Gotham first, but it looked far too dangerous and gloomy. Next was New York City, which she determined was too big. Philadelphia was historic, but in a way that would definitely bore her classmates. Boston was too cold despite its excitement. Which left Metropolis as the perfect candidate. It was also protected by the perfect superheroes, Superman and his family, so she was absolutely confident the school board would approve of the city.

Of course, the meeting on Monday would need more specifics than just the city, but she was pleased with her progress so far. Marinette shut down her monitor, grabbed her backpack and plate from lunch, and went downstairs to the kitchen. She quickly scrubbed and dried her plate in the sink before waving to her parents as they bustled around, accommodating the tail end of the mid-day rush.

Marinette walked across the street with a spring in her step and, spotting a tall flash of blue hair, half-jogged up to her group of friends.

“Hey guys, sorry I couldn’t make it to lunch!” She grinned apologetically at Kagami and Luka.

“That’s alright Melody,” Luka gave her a side hug, “Chloe told us you were busy planning your class trip.”

Adrien slung an arm around Kagami’s shoulder and pulled his girlfriend closer to whisper conspiratorially to her, “I hear we’re going to America.” She laughed softly at his antics and at Marinette who stuck her tongue out at him. Kagami then said to Marinette, “That sounds delightful, Marihime. I trust you will still be joining us tomorrow morning?”

Marinette’s eyes lit up with excitement at the prospect of playing the game with her friends all weekend long. “Definitely! I’m going to finish preparing for the school board meeting tonight so that we can play the second it comes out.”

“If you can wake up on time,” Chloe teased.

Marinette crossed her arms defensively and stated with pride, “I already set three alarms, thank you very much!”

Adrien burst out laughing at that. “Leave it to our everyday Ladybug,” he winked. Her face flushed as she pouted. He chuckled again and kissed Kagami on the top of her head. “See you later, mon coeur.”

She and Luka waved to the rest of the group as they left to return to their own schools. The three Francois Dupont students watched them go for a moment before returning inside.

“So, you and Kagami have plans?” Chloe asked.

“Yeah! Our parents gave special permission for a sleepover at my place tonight so we can play the game right when it comes out tomorrow.” Adrien rubbed the back of his neck, a nervous habit he had never quite abandoned. “But I’m not sure how often we’ll be able to be online with you guys after this weekend. You know how busy our schedules are....”

Marinette elbowed him lightly as they walked. “It’s a blessing you both managed to convince your dad and her mom to let you come to the launch at all! We’ll play together when we can, it’s no big deal.”

Adrien smiled gratefully at her and held the door open for both Marinette and Chloe as they entered the classroom. Alya was already there, and once she spotted her best friend (well, one of them), she skidded down the steps with a huge grin and held an invisible microphone up to Marinette.

“Thank you Nadja, and good afternoon Paris! This is Alya Cesaire, and today I am joined by young fashion designer Marinette Dupain-Cheng. Mlle. Dupain-Cheng, can you give us an exclusive scoop on the trip you’re planning for your class?”

“Good afternoon Mlle. Cesaire,” Marinette giggled, “Unfortunately, the trip has yet to be approved by the school board so no details just yet. But I can tell you with certainty that we will be visiting the resident city of some popular American superheroes.” She winked as she finished in her best interview voice.

Alya gasped and dropped her pretend microphone as she hugged her best friend. “Really!? Oh my gosh girl, you are the best!”

Marinette laughed and hugged her back as Alya jumped and spun them around. Once they pulled apart, she told the brunette, “As soon as the school board gives me the green light, you’ll be the first to know.”

The late bell rang and the girls practically skipped to their respective seats as Madame Bustier called the class to attention. Well, “attention” in the loosest sense of the word. They struggled once more through the majority of their lessons, but Madame Bustier seemed to sense defeat and she let them chatter excitedly for the last twenty minutes before dismissal.

Kim and Alix were boasting about how they were going to stay up all night, while Max encouraged them to maximize the time they would be able to play the next day by getting a full night’s sleep in before the launch time.

Lila bragged about her role in the creation of the game from its conception to even having suggested the highly anticipated date of release. Adrien pointedly ignored Lila in the row behind his and discussed the music they had recorded and mixed for the game with a very enthusiastic Nino.

Sabrina looked on a little sadly until Mylene, Ivan, Rose, and Juleka invited her to join their Disney movie marathon double-date instead. Mylene was too nervous to play the game so Ivan chose to sit out to support her, and video games weren’t really Rose and Juleka’s style. Sabrina’s face softened as she gratefully accepted their invitation.

Nathaniel turned around in his seat to talk to Marinette about the art rendering and the programs they used while Chloe scrolled aimlessly on her phone.

By the time the bell finally rang, the class was beyond excited to go prepare for the launch the next morning.

Marinette, to her credit, swallowed her enthusiasm and sat down to fully plan out their trip to Metropolis. It was grueling work, researching the safest hotel that was still in a central location. It had to be affordable but not shabby, too, because they had a limited budget. She eventually settled on the reputable Wayne Hotel, apparently part of an enormous corporation called Wayne Enterprises, and then began to build an itinerary with different events from there.

She worked nonstop the rest of the night, with the exception of a brief dinner break, and it was nearly 11:00 at night by the time she finished. Marinette sat up from her desk chair and stretched, then double-checked that her alarms were set before finally heading to bed.

#marinette dupain cheng #jasonette #sword art online au #virtual reality #miraculous ladybug #miraculous ladybug fic #maribat #maribat fic #healing hands

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beybladefanfictions · 3 years ago

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Ryuga x King Chapter 1 - Overworked

(Cover art is by Tumblr user Zadi-Jyne.)

(Author’s note: You can all see the title, so I’ll explain: I don’t know what possessed me to write a shipfic of Ryuga and King. Well, I sort of do. For those of you who read Bey-Mong Us, you know King’s crush on Ryuga originated there as a sort of running joke. Well, it slowly started to be less of a joke and more of a dynamic I genuinely enjoyed so I decided to write about them meeting in real life. It was always going to be set after the first two Ryuga stories but then I realized I had a lot of things from L-Drago’s Return I wanted to follow up on or go into more depth with. So I decided to put that stuff here and the story ended up being over two hundred pages long (on Google Docs at least). So yeah, I hope you enjoy it!)

(PS: If you’re homophobic, gladly leave or get blocked. Thank you :)

Ryuga's POV

“Special move! King lion crushing fang!”

L-Drago and Leone were in the middle of a fierce clash when the wind suddenly picked up, swirling into a tornado and flinging L-Drago into the air.

Ryuga gasped in alarm. “L-DRAGO!”

Leone threw itself at L-Drago. There was a burst of wind, nearly knocking Ryuga off his feet. A bey was thrown into the air. Ryuga looked around wildly. Behind him, a motionless bey slammed into the sand. At first, Ryuga didn’t believe it, but the bey before him was L-Drago. He bit back a gasp, his eyes wide. Behind him, Gingka, Kenta, and Madoka gasped, staring at Ryuga with their jaws agape.

“I… I did it…” Kyoya’s voice trembled with happiness as he retrieved Leone.

“You did it, Kyoya pal!” Benkei threw his arms around his friend, who seemed too stunned to push him away.

Then Kyoya looked up at Ryuga, smirking. Ryuga’s eyes narrowed. He was bristling with rage, too wretched to speak.

“Ryuga…?” Kenta took the first step toward Ryuga, reaching a tentative hand toward him.

Ryuga grabbed his bey. “This isn’t over,” he growled, moving Kenta out of the way as he walked away.

“Ryuga?” Kenta trailed after him. Madoka and Gingka joined him, all of them staring at Ryuga in worry.

“Are you okay?” Madoka asked.

“Ryuga?” Gingka rested his hand on Ryuga’s shoulder. Ryuga pushed Gingka’s hand away and sped up, his head bent low in shame as he clutched L-Drago. *How… How could I lose?! I never lose! I’m not supposed to lose!* Ryuga gazed at his bey. *I am weaker now…*

“Ryuga, please talk to us,” Kenta insisted, reaching toward him.

“Shut up.”

Kenta flinched back.

“Don’t talk to Kenta like that!” Madoka gasped, stiffening with anger.

“Madoka…” Kenta’s voice slipped into a sob. “Just… just leave him alone.” All three of them fell silent after that.

Ryuga's fist clenched around L-Drago. He bit his trembling lip as his heart blazed with rage. *How could you lose to him?! You’ve beaten him before, what went wrong this time?!* Ryuga bit his lip, glaring at L-Drago Guardian. *So it’s true… I am weaker now.*

He glared at Kenta, who was staring down at the ground. Whatever anger Ryuga felt toward him faded. *My weakness isn’t his fault, it’s only mine…* Ryuga’s eyes narrowed. *I’m not weak! I just have to train harder! I won't let myself lose again!*

-----------------------

After a sleepless night, Ryuga went upstairs the moment he spotted the slightest hint of daylight. Kenta’s mother was already upstairs as well. She was sitting at the kitchen table in front of her laptop, meaning she had either stayed up all night writing or woke up early to write. *I’m not sure which is worse.*

“Ryuga…” She greeted with a yawn. “You’re up early.”

“I’m going out to train,” Ryuga grunted, making his way toward the front door.

“Okay…” She sounded a little unsure. “Just get something to eat first.”

Ryuga let out a sigh. He wasn’t hungry but he didn’t want Kenta’s parents to worry about him, for reasons he knew and still somewhat resented. However, he also knew it couldn’t be helped. Grabbing an apple, Ryuga made his way out of the house without another word.

He walked toward the forest. It took him a while but he found a serviceable cliff to destroy. Ryuga launched L-Drago at the cliff wall, grunting when it barely made a dent. Ryuga retrieved his bey.

“Weak!” he growled through clenched teeth. “You weak idiot!”

He launched L-Drago again. The bey clashed against the rocks, screeching like a dying animal.

“L-DRAGO!” Ryuga yowled at his bey. “Keep going! Not strong enough! Not good enough!”

Cracks began to appear in the cliff before L-Drago fell backwards again. Ryuga growled.

“I will not lose again!” He exclaimed, launching L-Drago once again.

The impact of this fresh launch broke the cliff into pieces. Some of the rocks flew toward Ryuga. He stepped out of the way but one rock scraped his white jacket, leaving a small tear.

Still, Ryuga launched L-Drago once again. And again, and again, and again, until he eventually lost track of how much time had passed. L-Drago flew into Ryuga’s hand. He fell to his knees, unable to catch his breath as he gripped his palpitating heart.

“Ryuga…”

Ryuga stiffened at the sound of Kenta’s voice. Wobbling back to his feet, Ryuga turned and glared at his friend.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, wiping the sweat off his forehead.

“What do you mean what I am doing?!” Kenta exclaimed, his eyes wide with horror. “I’ve been looking for you all day! We’ve all been worried sick!”

“I said I was training,” Ryuga grunted, rolling his eyes.

“You’ve been out here since sunrise!”

Ryuga glanced up at the sky. The sun had sunk behind the mountains, casting faint orange light across part of the sky.

“What’s your point?” Ryuga growled, glaring back at Kenta.

“Gah-” Kenta took a step back. “That doesn’t sound insane?” Ryuga just continued to glare at him. “Oh… oh my go-” Kenta clasped his hands over his mouth, his eyes wide. “Just-just, come home, please. Mom and Dad are really worried about you.”

Ryuga let out a sigh. “Fine.”

“Ryuga…” Kenta stared at him. “I know you’re upset about losing-”

“Stop talking about it!” Ryuga snapped, glaring down at him.

Kenta winced. “Ryuga…”

Ryuga began walking faster. Kenta trailed after him from a distance, as he had done back when they were travelling together.

---------------------------------

Ryuga continued training like this for nearly two weeks. He didn’t stop until he couldn’t lift his launcher, returning home barely able to walk or see straight. When he wasn’t training, he was thinking through and writing down strategies for his upcoming battle with King. Ryuga had heard that King was in Japan, though he had yet to see him. He scarcely saw anyone lately, including Kenta’s parents or any of his friends. He was too busy training.

Ryuga watched L-Drago crash through the boulders, breaking them into smaller pieces. It scraped against the side of one with a sudden screech. Ryuga stiffened. Rushing toward his bey, he stopped it with his fingers. A piece of the fusion wheel was missing. Ryuga looked around, spotting a small piece of metal on the ground beside him, glinting in the sunlight. He picked it up, his eyes wide.

“L-Drago…” Gazing closer at his bey, Ryuga noticed that there were a few more missing pieces and the entire bey was covered in scratches. Guilt pricked him like a thorn.

*I need to get this fixed…* He made his way back into the city, struggling to walk toward the bey shop. Ryuga pushed the door open. The shop was completely empty: Madoka wasn’t even at the front desk. Ryuga walked toward the stairs.

Glancing over the railing, he spotted Madoka at her desk sitting with Tsubasa, the two of them giggling to themselves. There were two bowls of ramen on the desk in front of them. Ryuga cleared his throat. Madoka and Tsubasa fell silent, glancing up at him.

“Am I interrupting something?” Ryuga asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Oh, Ryuga. I forgot you still lived around here,” Madoka remarked, sarcasm smothering her voice.

Ryuga rolled his eyes. “Can you fix this?” he asked, placing L-Drago Guardian on her desk.

“Yeah, sure.” Madoka pushed her bowl of ramen aside and grabbed her tools.

“I’ll…” Tsubasa stood up, grabbing his bowl of ramen. “I'll leave you to that…”

“No, no, you can stay, Tsubasa,” Madoka replied, gazing at him with a smile.

Tsubasa smiled back. “Thanks…” He sat back down, scooping up some noodles with his chopsticks.

Ryuga leaned against the wall, watching as Madoka started to fix L-Drago. Tsubasa cast a suspicious glance at Ryuga.

“You’re… staying too then?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I’m not leaving L-Drago,” Ryuga replied, folding his arms.

“It’s fine,” Madoka cut in. “You can stay, but this’ll take a few hours to fix.”

Ryuga nodded. Tsubasa glanced back and forth between Madoka and Ryuga with an unreadable expression. Madoka kept her gaze fixed on her work. Everyone remained silent. The bell at the door upstairs rang.

“Hello? Anyone here?” Ryuga’s eyes narrowed. He recognized that voice instantly.

“We’re downstairs, King!” Madoka called, not looking up from her work.

“Oh! Okay!” Loud footsteps echoed from the ceiling before King appeared at the top of the stairs. “Madoka have you seen-” His eyes suddenly lit up. “Ryuga!” King rushed toward him, stopping a few paces away in front of him. “Woah…” He looked Ryuga up and down. “You’re tall…”

“What do you want?” Ryuga growled, barely keeping his anger under control.

“Heh,” King raised an eyebrow. “And here I thought you were looking forward to our battle?” he asked with a smirk.

Ryuga perked up. “When?”

King let out a giggle. “There we go. I think I’ve gotten used to the time zone well enough. How’s tomorrow morning sound?”

Ryuga turned to Madoka.

“Um…” She glanced at L-Drago. “Yeah, L-Drago should be fully repaired by then.”

“Oh…” King cast a glance at the desk, his eyes wide. “I didn't notice that. How'd your bey break?” he asked, turning to Ryuga again.

“Yeah…” Madoka's tone was edged with suspicion. “I was wondering that too.”

“I don't know,” Ryuga admitted. He turned to King again. “Where are we battling?”

“Well, I like the look of that abandoned stadium… or Bey coliseum, whatever it’s called.”

“Done.” Ryuga stepped toward King, his eyes narrowed. “Now get out of here.”

“Wha-” King frowned, his eyes huge with sadness. “Can’t I hang out with you guys?”

“Whatever.” Ryuga glanced at Madoka. “Let me know when the bey is fixed.” He made toward the stairs. *L-Drago will be fine with Madoka, but I will lose my mind if I have to deal with King for any longer.*

“Um…” Madoka sounded a little taken aback. “Okay then.”

Tsubasa let out a sigh, standing up. “I need to get going too. Reiji’s gonna be back soon.”

Ryuga paused. “He lives with you?” he asked, looking back at Tsubasa.

Tsubasa nodded. “He said it was either that or going back to the Dark Nebula’s old headquarters.” He let out an exasperated sigh. “So now I have the weirdest roommate, thanks to you.” He rolled his eyes though he was smiling a bit as well.

“Ryuga got you a roommate?” King asked, smirking a bit. “How’d that happen?”

“There’s not much to it really,” Tsubasa admitted with a shrug. “Reiji showed up at a tournament, I found them talking after and Ryuga practically threw him at me and asked me to take him to therapy.”

King giggled into his hand. Seeing his chance to slip away unnoticed, Ryuga started up the stairs. It didn’t work. King and Tsubasa trailed after him.

“Like he actually threw him?” King asked, casting a bright glance at Ryuga. He glared back at King.

Tsubasa pulled the door of the shop open, gesturing for Ryuga and King to walk through. Ryuga continued to glare at King. Awkwardly smiling, King brushed past him to get out of the shop. Ryuga and Tsubasa followed.

“He might as well have,” Tsubasa answered with a shrug. “Anyways, so I got Reiji an appointment with a therapist and he told me he didn’t have anywhere to go so… he’s with me now.”

“That’s kinda cute,” King replied, his eyes bright.

Ryuga made a sharp left, shambling away from King and Tsubasa.

“Hey!” King called. “Where are you going?”

Ryuga clenched his fist. *Can’t you leave me alone?!* Thankfully, Tsubasa stepped in front of King, stopping him from following Ryuga.

“Don’t bother,” Tsubasa insisted, “Ryuga’s been moodier than usual ever since he lost to Kyoya.”

Ryuga’s eyes narrowed. However, he forced himself to keep walking. *I will not let myself lose to King tomorrow! Losing to Kyoya was bad enough but I might as well quit Beyblading if I lose to that obnoxious poser who thinks he can get away with using a reverse rotation bey!*

Ryuga made his way back home. *I have to beat him. I have to prove that I’m still the strongest blader despite my new… attachments.* Ryuga pushed the door open. Kenta’s parents were sitting in the kitchen, chatting amongst themselves.

Ryuga looked around. “Where’s Kenta?”

“He’s staying over at Gingka’s,” Kenta’s dad explained, turning to him.

“He… he wanted to invite you too,” Kenta’s mom added.

“Don’t care.” Ryuga rolled his eyes, grabbing some food before sitting across from them.

“Well, that doesn’t sound like you,” Kenta’s mother commented, raising an eyebrow.

Ryuga didn’t reply. He wouldn't want to stay at Gingka's house anyways, that would mean dealing with Gingka's pathetic excuse for a father.

“Is that another tear on your jacket?” Kenta’s dad asked, sounding concerned.

Ryuga glanced at his jacket. His white jacket had been torn and ripped open in multiple places, some parts barely held together by a few strings. Ryuga couldn’t tell which tears were new and which were old. He pushed it behind his back.

“What kind of training have you been doing exactly?” Kenta’s dad asked.

“Breaking rocks,” Ryuga answered, taking a bite of food.

“That…” Kenta’s dad’s eyes were wide. “That sounds a little… intense.” He turned to Kenta’s mother, looking desperate.

Kenta’s mom let out a sigh. “Okay, I’m just gonna say it. Ryuga, you're overworking yourself.”

Ryuga glared at her. “Says the one who stays up late writing.” Kenta's mom winced visibly.

Kenta’s dad glared at him. “Hey!” Anger briefly flashed in his eyes before he continued more calmly, “Hey… she knows when to take a break, most of the time. You’ve been training non-stop for almost two weeks. That’s not healthy.”

Kenta’s mom nodded. “Sweetie, did you push yourself this hard during your… trip? Is this how you were before you came here?”

“I worked even harder, actually, and it paid off.”

Kenta's mom looked downright horrified.

“But… was it any fun?” Kenta's dad was clearly fighting to sound light-hearted.

“Fun?” Ryuga raised an eyebrow.

“Well, yeah… They're spinning tops. They're supposed to be fun.”

“It's fun to win. I fight to win.”

“You can't win every time.”

*I used to…* Ryuga thought bitterly.

“I can if I work hard enough.” Ryuga ate the last bite of his food and stood up. “I'm going to do a little more training.” He started to walk away.

“No.” Ryuga froze at the sudden sternness in Kenta’s mother’s tone. “It's going to be dark soon. You're done for the night.”

Ryuga glared back at her. “Fine,” he growled, sitting on the couch and grabbing his notebook.

He flipped to his page of strategies he’d written for facing Variares, beginning to add a few more notes. Kenta’s parents walked by.

“Ryuga, kiddo.” Kenta’s dad let out an exasperated sigh. “We implore you, take a break.”

“My match is tomorrow,” Ryuga growled, not looking up from his notes. “I'm not slacking off.”

“At least get to bed on time, please,” Kenta's mom sighed.

“I will. I have been.”

“Okay, sweetie.”

Kenta’s parents left the room, leaving Ryuga alone with his notes. *How am I overworking myself?* Ryuga wondered, *I lost! I should be training harder to improve. Doji would make me do the same if I-* Ryuga stiffened. *Wait, that might be the problem… But what else am I supposed to do?!*

As Ryuga continued writing, he found himself struggling to keep his eyes open. He bit back a yawn. Ryuga laid down on his side, trying to continue looking at his notes for a while before his eyes fluttered shut.

It seemed like only a few moments later when sunlight shone in Ryuga's face. He blinked his eyes open, lifting his head a bit. Ryuga was still lying on the couch, though a green blanket had been draped over him. He sat up. The stench of coffee hung in the air, making Ryuga flinch. *Coffee… that can mean only one thing…* Ryuga glanced over in the kitchen and spotted his- no, Kenta’s dad, sipping a mug of coffee.

“Morning, kiddo,” he greeted.

“Morning…” Ryuga stood up, grabbing his Beyblade. “I have a battle to get to.”

“Okay, have fun,” Kenta’s dad replied with a nod. Ryuga was about to open the door.

“Oh, wait!” Ryuga froze. He turned to Kenta's dad who tossed him an orange. Ryuga caught it. Then, with a nod, he pushed the door open and walked away.

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moved-to-void-kissed · 4 years ago

Text

Of Rubies and Sapphires

Document link: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1MXlNYYIQPVEeOXwsWuA4WIQ6E-LPJ-Z1BYljZbqlfuM/edit?usp=sharing

Trapped by the shadow brought to life by a magical mirror as she wanders the realm of darkness, Aria is forced to finally reconcile with the other aspect of “herself”, once assumed to have been devoured by the dark. (1656 words) My piece written for Our Canon Now! 2020, a self-insert zine created by ginari and shirorabu.

This was my contribution to the self-insert zine created at the end of last year! I was really happy to be able to take part in such a great project, especially since it let me write out this scene between Aria and Ves. I also created an MMD render to portray a specific part, so.. I’ll have to see if I can find that, too!

Reblogs are appreciated but not by any means required - I also highly recommend going and checking out all the other wonderful art and writing in the zine!! As always, there’s a transcript of the doc under the readmore, too~

I spoke aloud to myself as I stood before a tall oval mirror, coldly ornate with a rim of decorative gold. Dotted about the design were a series of red and blue gemstones, well-crafted in spite of their current neglect. The glass itself was smooth and clear, but obscured by a film of dust and dirt, so that the details reflected were hazy. A shame, really - for the backdrop it faced was a sea of glittering fragments, suspended in the air for as far as the eye could see. This was the shadow of a sky, and I appeared to have found my way to an open-air gallery. Here and there, sparkling shards shone a thousand colours in the flickering lights of the torch fires, subtly shimmering as flames flickered and glowed. Behind all of these lay the purest black of darkness - the fabric which held this entire realm together, ripped raw to expose itself wholly.

I was no stranger to this endless abyss; in fact, it made a welcome change to have something so bright and yet piercingly empty stand before it. A useless curtain, if it were meant for obscuring - but the glittering glass still reminded me of the stars I had not seen for so long. Now though, afraid of where my mind would take me if I dwelled on such matters for too long - and wanting to discern what was actually happening - I turned back again to face the wall where the mirror hung.

..Now that I thought about it, something was missing from its reflection - myself.

And then, like a fool, I stepped closer.

I expected to see the familiar sights of my wings, my eyes, my ears - the parts of me that turn others away. Instead I was faced with something a lot more human, which appeared out of nowhere in the mirror. She had the same face that I wore, but her eyes were wrong - instead of hard amber, her eyes were a brilliant green. And staring directly into mine with piercing anger. I was startled and tried to step backwards, but the girl reached out of the mirror and grabbed my right arm’s sleeve. Caught off-guard, I slipped on the cold stone under me and awkwardly fell forwards. The reflection was undaunted, though, and wrenched herself backwards with a shout to pull me straight through the mirror glass.

I instinctively tensed up and closed my eyes, expecting a shower of shards in my face, but instead was sent tumbling into a curious space inside the mirror itself. The ground was solid, but my entrance sent some kind of ripple through the floor, as if I had landed in shallow water. There was no real difference between the walls and the floor - both were made of a strange dark blue material, like some kind of clouded silk. However, as I had found out firsthand by crashing into it, this material was hard and solid to the touch. What was this world within..?

That was anything but my main concern, though, as I quickly came to my senses and tried to get back to my feet. The imperfect reflection was doing the same, having managed to launch herself backwards by pulling me through the mirror. Now I could see her in perfect clarity, no longer obscured by the dust time had left on the glass - and she was in quite a state. She wore the same clothes that I did, but where mine were comfortable and deliberate, hers looked forced-on and ill-fitting. Her hair hung limply on either side of her face, with no sign of my cat’s ears, and my pitch-black wings were nowhere to be seen either. It was like she was someone human, someone normal, trying to dress up as me. There was anger pulsing through her body, but it seemed somehow hesitant, and her face was soaked with a thousand tears. I could work with that.

“Why have you brought me here?” I asked her. No use fighting when you can reason with someone, after all. Especially given that I could not summon my Keyblade, and if this entity had tried to reflect my appearance then there was every chance it could mirror my power.

“You know why!” she cried, in a voice like a child’s. “Look at what you’ve done to me!”

Oh.

That wasn’t what I was expecting to hear. “So you’re saying that you’re-”

“Look at me!” She yelled to drown me out and pointed at herself with a sob. “I never wanted to be like this. You’re the one who did this to me!”

In the face of her anguish, I refused to let my rising emotions show. “You say it like you think I don’t know that, Ves.”

“Don’t call me that!-”

All of a sudden she lunged out towards me - I tried to leap out of her way, but there was nowhere to go and I was too close to the edge of the “room” to try and fly. There was a flash of ice as Ves tried to summon a blade of her own - but like mine, it faltered into nothing. It seemed we were linked in that aspect. In retaliation, I sent forth a blast of dark fire to get her away from me so that I could regain the upper hand. I was tired from my previous exploring, but my magic was always at its height in this realm, thanks to all the darkness to augment it. Luckily, that held true in the mirror too, and she was flung backwards again.

If nothing else, her reaction to her name confirmed my suspicions. This was not a reflection at all. Instead, she was what remained of the vessel I had taken so long ago, what I had used to live on and be complete again. I had assumed whatever was left of her had faded away with time; perhaps that was the reason for her having almost the same appearance as me. Given a choice, she would certainly not have done so, but it may well have been the only way the mirror could give her a form.

To try and show that most human of aspects - mercy - I kept low and attempted to look as non-threatening as possible. This was not something I could do easily, but I tried anyway, lowering my wings and removing the mask over my mouth. Ves’ eyes widened at this, and she retained her anger, but sadness was building up behind it. It was clear that despite her outburst, she was not seeking to destroy me - perhaps she realised that doing so would lead to her demise as well, or perhaps it was merely that she was not a fighter.

“Fine, then.” I paused, and used the name I took from her. “Aria. That’s you, isn’t it?”

“I’m me.” she started coldly, then I think she realised what I had actually said. “You- you stole my name. Like everything else about me.”

No way of getting around that, unfortunately. “I suppose that’s true. So, what, have you come to take it back?”

“I- yes! I have to get rid of you!!”

She was clearly caught off-guard, however defiantly she stated her intentions. The fact she had no weapon was likely the main factor, although there was still every chance she could use the same magic as me. It was then that I realised the mirror had appeared behind her - and through it, I caught a glance of the real world I had come from. A chance to escape! The ceiling of this strange space looked too low, but there was still a way of getting around her. I slowly crouched lower, let my wings unfurl, darted to the side as Ves flinched from the sudden movement- and my hand brushed against hers when I passed her.

A cascade of emotions brought me to the floor. All her anguish, all her pain, from all those years - I felt every aspect of it in a single moment. She was what I had used to live on, the reason I could be as I am now; but how I had repaid the favour? In the most Heartless way I could have - by twisting her form, taking her name, and leaving her dormant. She was a shell trapped in slumber, with her light consumed and overshadowed. No more than a soul left to fade away in place of all it could have been. How could I have done that to her? To anyone?

I turned and looked up at her, now understanding what I had put her through, but unable to speak through the emotions. Ves seemed to notice that, too, and her expression had shifted - perhaps our connection had reunited her with the memories I had that she never experienced.

Then she spoke, with what felt like a much more characteristic quietness. “Can you.. let me be myself again?”

I rose to my feet, and gave only an honest answer. “I can’t let go of you entirely. I don’t remember how to. But.. if you have the strength to show up, I won’t fight it. I’ve kept you down long enough.”

“..I understand.” She smiled, even if it was not all she was hoping to hear. “Thank you, Aria.”

“You’re welcome.. Aria.”

A more amused smile from her this time. “That’s going to be confusing, isn’t it?”

We both managed to laugh at that one, despite ourselves, and as I stepped through the mirror, the sound of her laughter shifted from outside to inside me as my reflection became nothing more than that. I felt different now, but as the cold and empty realm sprawled itself before me again, I knew for sure that I had done something right for once. And I had a new goal in sight - to find a way for us both to survive.

#a call from the void #creations from the void #selfship #selfshipping #self‑inserts #self‑insert: darkness' champion (aria)#self‑insert: ruby in the light (ves)#our canon now! 2020 #this post is okay to reblog!#if I didn't quite literally have the voice of a 12-year-old (as evidenced by my ursula impression) I would try and record this #since it *is* from aria's perspective.. which would therefore be mine.. so yeah #hey maybe I should repost that commentary on it that I rambled about to dragon #but yeah anyway I hope this is alright #the tag list was mostly just copied from the xiara render so hopefully it's all still applicable #waiting in the wings #so it goes out a little bit later

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echo-three-one · 4 years ago

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Whatever It Takes

Sequel to A Forgotten Memory

Now facing an internal battle between her heart and mind, Samantha faces her fears and searches for the truth. Will she accept the past? Will she listen to her heart? Or will she let her memories get the best of her?

Chapter 10 to another story made by Ray (echo-three-one) Comments and Reviews appreciated! I hope you enjoy! Love you all ❤️

Previous Chapter : Roach - A SurPRICE Visit

What is this o.O

The Heart knows what the Brain Doesn't

Samantha Coleman

141's High Value Individual

Task Force 141 Base - General Shepherd's Office

The base was quiet. Everyone else fled off to their mission and all Samantha could think about is Alex. But why? Maxine told her he wanted to meet him, but Alex told her it's because she dropped her pendant. Whose story is she going to believe in? She could feel her heart beat differently ever since she saw him with General Shepherd. Her whole body except for her brain reacted to his presence. She even felt weak after slapping him, it's like her brain commanded it but her hands wanted to disobey. Who is he?

Maxine passed by with an apple she got from the kitchen counter.

"Sam, you okay?" she asked, biting the fruit and sitting in the chair across from her.

"I've been thinking… about how you knew Alex and how she knows me…" she sighed, it was relieving to let out all her bottled thoughts, especially that now they're both alone.

"Well, we met in a bar. Had a few drinks then showed me a photo of you." she said, holding her hand.

"I honestly believed he did know you and tried to lengthen the conversation, just so I know he's good enough and knows a lot. He actually aced the test but he was very drunk when I told her to meet again. After that He showed up the next day and I had to work. Whatever happened after my shift was- ow." she interrupted herself because of a minor pain from recalling her memories. She still hasn't been able to remember all of them, even after a lot of sleep.

"Yeah. That's about it on your side. Mine's just that… He looked creepy, his eyes felt like he was looking for me in a weird way and so I ran. After that life continued. You went on a leave and I resumed working." She supplied, staring at the grey walls of the mess hall.

"I wish I'd remember where I went on that vacation. It'd be cool." Max commented, crunching on another bite.

"My heart… beats differently when he's near. It's like he's really familiar." She whispered.

"Oh. Someone's been struck by the Cupid. He is attractive though. Without those ink, he'd probably be your type." Max teased, winking at her and nudging her. Samantha was serious, though.

"Look. I admit my heart feels something for him. It's a mix of guilt and longing. But why would I long for someone I just met?" She sighed and dropped her head on the table, groaning as her mind and her heart battled against the inconsistencies.

"Look. It's not too crowded here. Maybe we could do some research by their library!" Max suggested, creating finger guns and humming the Mission Impossible theme song as she stood up and went to the library. Samantha chuckled.

"So we're spies now?!" She placed a hand on her forehead as she followed her wacky best friend.

Maxine typed down Alex on the search bar, his public profile appeared and they began reading his file. It was all basic ideas, Nationality, Height, his name was redacted and they couldn't bypass it so they just ignored it and headed to the next term.

"CIA Agent Alex helped locate and detain CIA Mole." Samantha read with her mouth. Maxine quickly clicked the article and photos of her appeared on almost every page.

Unlike Maxine, these notes didn't hurt her mind except it hurt her heart that she treated him that way, after all this time. He was there to save her. He located you through Maxine to save you from the same captors that played with your brain months ago.

"Ooooh. It says here you two were safely housed in a remote safehouse for almost a month. Really Sam? Maybe something happened within that time? Can you please remember how he looked underneath those clothes. For me?" she giggled. Samantha knew she was joking but it was an honest possibility.

Could it be that she fell for the guy that saved her and sat with her for almost a month? Or the two of them fell in love? Her heart was racing as the possibilities overloaded her brain, her cheeks started to blush as her thoughts consumed her. This wasn't her mind talking to her, it was her heart. It's reminding her of Alex.

"Oh. Shit." Maxine muttered and Sam snapped back to reality, putting her hand on Max's shoulders and looked into the screen once again.

Due to a special favor promised by Samantha's father, he has authorized to apply an MK Ultra procedure to her, whose main intention is to Alter her memories of the IP Address along with the events that happened prior to kidnapping.

"You agreed to forget him?" Max looked at her, a frown formed as she started to console her.

"I guess so… Maybe something happened between us." She sobbed. She didn't want to cry, but the realization set in on her. They met, they bonded and she forced herself to forget him. No wonder Alex felt sad after being slapped.

"I want to ask him about us." Sam said with determination. Maxine liked the confidence but was also concerned about her feelings.

"What if you wanted to forget him, that's why you did it? Would you be ready to feel the sadness all over again?" Maxine asked. Samantha paused for a while. She made sense but her gut is telling her to push through her initial plan.

"I'm sorry Max, but I made my choice. I have to know everything about us, Whatever it Takes." she said.

"I'm here to support you. After all, you're the only memory I have left. They took everything. I don't know why but my memory began when I moved in. That's where my story started. Maybe there's a reason for it so, here I am for you. You're my family." she said, hugging her tight.

"Well, you could add a few more people in your family." she smiled.

"Yeah. It's full of tough looking brothers ready to protect us. And one soft Gary." she noted.

"He is a sweetheart, huh?" Samantha asked, getting a hint of something else from her.

"Well, he talks a lot and he gets me sometimes. It's a shame he's always out there saving the world." Max chuckled. Samantha froze.

"I know you want this to work..."

"This is our proposed digital art for our ad…"

"... and I know in my heart that I do too…"

"The colors need to be more vibrant!"

"...but I can't live loving you with worry in my heart..."

"I'm staying a little bit longer, See you tomorrow!"

"... and I don't want to be the reason that you'll stop saving the world. I know you want that. It's your job to. It's what you built your whole life to become..."

Her head started projecting two realities, it confused her. Which was right and which was wrong? She knew the work one was right, but the memories she just made right now while crying in front of Alex made more sense. Which was real? Which was fake?

"Sam! You okay?" Maxine snapped her fingers and Samantha blinked rapidly.

"I'm going crazy Max." she panted.

"What's wrong?" she consoled.

"My memories. They're all wrong. Why did I agree to this?" Samantha continued breathing heavily.

"Well, for starters. It's to forget that IP Address you memorized as a kid."

"But why did they change the recent ones too? Did I decide that my time spent with Alex is worth forgetting? Did he break my heart or did I break his?" She sighed. She knew for herself that she was unable to love again because of her loss, but what if Alex made it right for her? Alex did something that helped her move on? That's why her heart felt yearning for him?

"Sam. I'm no love doctor but if this really bothers you, you should talk to him. I have no idea when they'll get back but I'm looking forward to your resolution." She patted her shoulders and gave her a soft hug. Samantha felt like crying, but why?

After a while, Samantha actually had the courage to ask about Alex's whereabouts. Word has it that he's being redeployed to Germany to investigate another alleged Augustus base and that they had no idea when he'll be back.

This worries Samantha because they already heard about a transfer of authority, which in simple words meant : You're leaving the base. And that meant she won't see Alex anymore.

Maxine and Samantha sat on their beds at the infirmary to recover once again, both of them fell quiet as the news they got started to bother them. They already got attached to the people in the base and were sure that they're going to miss them. All they could do is hope that the team gets home before they leave the base.

“You think Alex will be okay?” Samantha shifted her sleeping position to Maxine, who was still awake humming to soothing melodies. Maxine shifted to face her too and smiled.

“You’re worried.” She teased, making her smile and giggle.

“Well, my heart told me I have to worry…”

“That’s normal. And don’t you worry ‘bout a thing… He’s a tough guy, remember? He’s trained to survive such harsh conditions. That’s what his file said, right?” She reminded Samantha, giving her an assuring smile. Samantha shrugged off her worry and closed her eyes. She started to imagine what it felt like being with him, based on information from his file. She can’t help but smile at her crazy idea. She felt like a teenager all over again, obsessing herself on fictional characters she watched on TV, since she could only base his personality on words alone. But she did remember how his cheeks felt, from the slap, and placed her palm on her cheek as well. It felt like he was with her and her heart felt excited as she awaited for his return.

Next Chapter : The Berlin Tower

NOTIFICATION SQUAD MY BELOVED ❤️

@smokeywhalee @enderio @samatedeansbroccoli @whimsywispsblog @beemybee @ricinbach

#omg the picture I'm Sorry I tried #codmwfic #whateverittakes #alex echo 3 1 #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #john price #gary roach sanderson

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albino-whumpee · 4 years ago

Text

An old thing 3

First Continued from here

Look, I´m embarrassed of how I came up with something as fucked up as this. I´m very sorry to the people who read the first version of this and I do hope you´re doing ok. It´s never my intention or objective to make anyone feel wrong with the things I do. There´s a reason my art style is soft. So I send anyone who felt uncomfortable about this, an apology. However, I wanna believe I can share this under the “No matter how rough and dark, stories need to be told” And well. I failed to process not ALL parts of the story need to be told. So here´s the censored version of it.

CW// public humilliation, Degrading language, Non Con, Dub Con, NS*W at times, dehumanization, past CSA mentioned and threatened/implied, grooming, electrocution, along, slavery, human trafficking, forced breeding, blood, whump of minors, attempted murder, manhandling, muzzles, creepy and explosive whumpers, physical and emotional abuse.

Everything will be tagged and if there´s tags to be added, tell me please.

Five months later, Layo didnt wanna touch Roahn as he was disgusted to touch pregnant women. Roahn had a big bump already. A medic had come over and had done analysis to her. Apparently she was expecting twins. Two boys. Shy was handcuffed in the other side of the cell, but he couldnt decide to be happy or horrified. His master, Dánae, looked beyond pleased.

“What if we keep one? We can educate him as if he was ours. But we gotta make sure he knows his place. And maybe when he’s older we could use him”

Layo looked delighted by her plan.

“What about the other?” He had asked her.

Danae reflected, looking at no point in particular and then said with a stone cold face “we will sell him just after he doesn’t need his mother’s milk anymore”

Listening to that conversation were the medic and the two slaves. Roahn started sobbing. Quietly almost unheard.

And Shy jerked on his restraints. He had a muzzle on, restricting his talking. But his eyes showed rage.

“What? The doggy feels sad for being separated from his pup? Dont make me laugh, Shy” Layo grinned “ahh, well its just ironic for you right?” He started, Shy picking up, jerked aggressively. His muscles getting tense. “Your twin brother… I had my eyes on you for quite a while. Its a shame you were split” Layo sighed Shy stood up pulling on his restraints. Danae was amused by his reaction. Shy was, well, shy. He never showed that aggressive part of himself. And certainly, Roahn was the most amused of them.

“What were you called at the club? The two stars? Oh! The twin stars! always with your star painted on your cheek. you looked adorable. You were like 12?”

Shy stopped revolving. The stage name having an impact on him.

“Quite the performance between you two and other people” Layo laughed “Then you were sold. Alone. To that old man, what was his name? He raped you often didnt he? Before dying he told me you would scream your brothers name: Ivan.”

Shy was silent again. His legs shaking.

“Ivan and Dimitri. The twin stars. Lovely names for just two slaves born from another slave and sold to do exactly the same…” Layo paused dramatically, eyes on him. “You went full circle didnt you, Dimitri?”.

Shy/Dimitri had lost it. If there was one thing that pushed all his buttons was his past. He pulled on his chains, so much he shattered them.

Layo and Danae were just a feet away from the cell. So before the man could even react Dimitri had already grabbed his white hair.

Danae screamed and went to help his husband but he was faster and slammed his head in the floor. Danae took out a teaser and pinched Shy, who brutally convulsed on the ground.

“SHY!” Roahn yelled in her chair as the doctor held her down. Trying to convince her it was too dangerous. She looked at the man’s face as he shook his head in a no. “Ill take care of this lady” the doctor told her. She was surprised by his kindness.

The man went to stop Danae from shocking his slave any longer.

“Please miss Dourson! Stop it! Miss Dourson you’re going to kill him!” The man said grabbing her.

“Shut up!” She shoved him away, the teaser flying off her hands.

“My love…” Layo said with his bloody nose “stop it”

Danae pulled him to her not minding the blood on her dress. “Dear! He was trying to kill you!”

“Yes…he was…” Layo said putting his head backwards. When the bleeding stopped he added “I loved his face” the man spat “rage…Ah~ what an adorable expression from the pup” Danae wanted to make some sense enter his head but was stopped before that “Ill teach him a lesson Dánae, leave it to me” he said in a smirk.

Later that night Roahn was on their mat, stressed out about Shy. He had been taken by two men. Unconscious and limp. Her pleas fell in deaf ears.

She massaged her bump, trying to sooth her anxiety.

The door slammed and Shy walked in with bruises on his face and shackled. He was with Layo who didnt have the decency to cover his dick.

He threw him to the ground, Shy barely having time to put his hands in front.

Layo kicked him in the back making him fall for good. He sat above him and grabbed him by the collar choking him a bit.

“Never forget you’re mine, Shy. If you want to live of course” he said letting his head hit the ground. He stood up grabbing him by the arm and threw him back to the cell.

“Dont you dare try to take off the shackles woman. Or you will have his corpse instead”

The man said going away.

Roahn looked at his body, and understood what had happened in those hours.

“Sh- Dimitri…?” Roahn held his face. He gave her a sad look. Roahn felt the cold metal of the shackles on her abdomen when she hugged him.

“Im sorry baby. Im sorry. Im so glad you’re back” she cried.

“C’mere” he said, Roahn stopped and Shy passed his linked arms to her back into a hug. “Dont cry, Roahn. Im ok” he said. His bruises were purple and enormous.

“We need to run away. We need to…”

“Yes we do. But we gotta wait. Can you wait?” He told her.

She doubted.

She didn’t want to wait.

But she said yes.

The twins were born. One after three minutes. Three minutes where Danae took the newborn on her arms.

Shy allowed it but in his heart he wanted to kill her.

The second baby was put into his arms. He saw him and started crying. He showed him to Roahn. And told her,

“For them. Soon”

—

Destiny works in mysterious ways.

Their plan was to escape the week before Cal was put up for sale. Taking Kit and running away through the basements windows.

However the night was going down smoothly when suddenly, at the garden just beside the basement, one of the guards of the auction place beat Dimitri up and dragged them back with the baby twins on his coworkers arms.

Roahn was beaten up this time too.

When she woke up, Kit was with Danae screaming and crying loudly, as Dimitri was receiving a CPR. He came back to life but the medic guarded him for two months.

During this time, Cal was sold.

Layo told her how much.

50,000 euros.

That was how much their baby was worth.

During those nights, Roahn mourned her son. She wasnt allowed to see Kit. Or Dimitri.

She was alone. And she was desperate.

When Dimitri healed and a few scars were added to his face, he came back to her. And they hugged for their children had been stripped away from them.

But he promised this wouldn’t happen again. This time they would think it through.

And they would be free.

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anonniemousefics · 4 years ago

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Sleepless

So, Carry On Countdown 2020 is happening on Tumblr right now, and I’m not participating, but the other day @milo-fanarts posted that absolutely heart-wrenching fanart of Snowbaz based on the “Sleepless” prompt of the day, and I was seized with the need to write a ficlet based on it. Here’s the art - go give them a follow. :)

Fandom: Carry On/Wayward Son | Simon + Baz

Words: 1,567

Rating: Teen and Up

CW: Angst (and fluff! :) )

BAZ

Sleeping with Simon Snow is weird. I don’t mean sleeping with sleeping with – we’re not ready yet. (Or, let’s be honest, he’s not ready yet. If I came home one day and he was ready, I’d be naked before the front door even finished closing behind me.)(It’s fine – he doesn’t need to know.) I just mean this. Simon Snow taking up half my bed, warm and snuggly, with his tousled bronze curls all in his freckled, sleeping face. His giant red wings casting enormous black shadows in the moonlight.

My entire family doesn’t have enough fingers and toes among them to keep count how many times I used to lie awake at night at Watford, aching to be this close to him. How many nights I’d think if I could just have this, I’d never ask for anything else for the rest of my life.

Turns out, I don’t seem to do much sleeping now that I have it, either. Maybe it’s just because we don’t do it very often. The logistics of sharing a bed with your partial-dragon boyfriend are complicated at best, and Simon’s a bit of a violent sleeper these days. I’ve taken a wingtip to the eye more than once. (And once is already one too many times.)

It’s also a little distracting how handsy my brain wants me to be. (I just – Crowley, I am the greediest bastard. I want to run my hands up and down the curves of his shoulder muscles. I want to trace all the freckles around his lips. I want to watch him fall asleep while I run my fingers through his hair.) I don’t think Simon’s ready for all my handsiness, either.

So, I’m staring. I’m still fucking staring. Like it’s sixth year all over again, and I’m back to fantasizing that if I stare long enough, I’ll somehow incept his dreams and convince him to break up with Agatha and give making out with boys a try. (Huh. Maybe it worked after all?)

And that’s what I’m doing when he starts twitching in his sleep. (This isn’t new. Sometimes he talks, too.)(The last time we tried this, he full on tried to punch me in the face in his sleep.)(I was a little wary when he’d expressed an interest in staying tonight.) I start to preemptively roll away, in case he starts fluttering his wings, because I’d rather have him jab me in the back than the eye (again).

But that’s when he whimpers, a high, plaintive sound that threatens to break a few heartstrings. I look over my shoulder at him.

He’s still deep asleep, but his arms are crossed in front of his bare chest (lucky me, he sleeps shirtless) and his tawny brows are drawn together tight. I’m gutted by the way he huddles in on himself. I just want to hold him. I start to roll back to him, but stop short at the sound of his wings shuddering. (It brings to mind the method cowboys in old Westerns use to soothe wild horses – whoa, there. Easy, big fella. Like that would work.)

I’m ready to ignore them altogether, though, when Simon lets out something that sounds like a distant cry. It’s haunting. It’s horrible. It can’t go on.

“Simon,” I whisper into the dark. I try to reach out a hand to nudge him, to gently wake him out of it, and when I do, he draws in a shuddering breath. And starts to moan out something that sounds like Help.

“Hey, wake up.” I’m more insistent now – rising up on an elbow, giving his sleep-warmed shoulder a little shake. “Snow, wake up.”

He draws in a rasping gasp then, his eyes flaring open. His wings rustle and flap; I hold out a defensive hand.

“You were dreaming,” I tell him. He’s panting hard and shaking. “It was just a dream.”

He folds his wings in, then, spreading out onto his back with one hand pressed to his chest. It’s rising and falling fast with his shallow breaths – it sounds cacophonous in the dead of the night.

“You’re okay.” I keep reassuring him. I just want to hold him. Before I can move, he grabs my arm, like he’s steadying himself. His hand is clammy. “It was just a dream.”

“Fuck.” He scrubs a hand over his face, pressing the heel of his palm into one eye. And lets out a shaking breath.

“What happened?” I ask. I wonder if my clear voice is betraying how little sleeping I’ve actually been doing.

For a moment, I think that Simon isn’t going to answer. Or he’s going to say, “It’s fine” or “I don’t remember” when neither is true. He’s going to try to tack up another wall between us, because that is what we do lately. He’s just pinching the bridge of his nose, squishing his eyes shut tight, and I feel like I’m drifting further out to sea.

But, this time, he lets out a breath.

“I killed him,” he says, in a strained whisper. He means the Mage. In the moonlight, I catch a glimpse of the first tear that leaks from the corner of his eye.

I brush it away with the pad of my thumb.

“You saved us all, love,” I remind him, softly. “He was going to kill Agatha. And probably you and me and Penny, and who knows where he would have stopped.”

“He’d always been so good to me,” Simon whispers, like he hates to admit it. I would, too, if I were him.

It’s a complicated thing, this grief he carries (or mostly avoids). I don’t mourn the Mage – there’s no one else I know who does. But it’s something else entirely for Simon. The Mage had appeared in Simon’s life with hope and promises and a whole new life when Simon desperately needed one. And while he knows the Mage had gone on to deal in some extremely shady shit, that’s not something a person just easily puts aside in light of new information.

“You did the brave thing,” I remind him. “You did the right thing.”

There’s a steady stream of tears now. I wipe them with the backs of my fingers – they’re scalding hot, like he’s been boiling them in a dragon’s belly.

“I’m sorry,” he croaks. He’s still gripping my arm with one hand, the other hand pressed to his eye. I don’t know what good this is doing, and I just…

“Don’t be daft,” I say. “Will you just come here?”

And I open up one arm – an invitation. He can turn me down if he wants – I’ve survived worse. (I just want to hold him.)

And maybe it’s the magic of the moonlight or dream inception is truly a thing or Simon’s for once willing to let me in. It doesn’t matter. He rolls over into my arms, his lean body on top of mine, his head pressed to my chest.

This. This. This is all I’ve ever wanted. Just this.

(Tears aside, of course.)

I pull him tighter against me when I feel the heat of his tears begin to wet my shirt. (I don’t actually sleep shirtless – I’m too cold all the time.) I push my fingers into his curls, press my head to the top of his. He’s trying so hard to keep from openly weeping, but little good it’s doing him – I can feel how his muscles contract with each sob.

I hold him through it.

“I’m sorry,” he croaks again.

“Would you stop apologizing?” He’s so warm beneath my cold hands. “You’ve seen me cry, too.”

“Yeah, once,” Simon complains, petulantly. “And it was so beautiful, I made out with your snotty face.”

That makes me chuckle, and the fact that my laughter makes Simon’s head bob up and down on my chest makes him start to give a sniffling laugh.

“I’ll make out with your snotty face,” I offer, and he laughs again. (And I will. I have no shame.)

“That’s okay,” he says, and raises his head a moment. Looks down at the bloom of damp tears on my white t-shirt. “Sorry I got your shirt all wet.”

I just shrug.

“I like it – it’s Simon Snow art,” I tease, and double over my chin so I can inspect it. “Look – it looks like you’ve made a flower.”

“Oh, yeah?” He rests his head back on it, snug beneath my neck. Crowley, this is perfection. “You like wearing flowers now?”

“Maybe I do. Don’t you judge me, Snow.”

His chuckle rumbles through him and through me, too. I run my fingertips up the valleys of his back muscles. Slowly. Gently. Easy now. And his body starts to relax against me. I’m warmer than I’ve ever been in the night.

“Is this okay?” he whispers to me. I’m relaxing, too, growing heavy in the mattress. Comfortable. Soothed.

“It’s perfect,” I tell him, and press a kiss to his hair. He wraps his arms around me. He’s not going anywhere.

“Sorry in advance for drooling on you in my sleep,” he says as I’m starting to doze.

“Mmm. Sexy.” I grunt.

Snow laughs, and so do I – and again when his head bobs up and down with my laugh.

It’s the last thing I remember before finally falling off to sleep.

----------------------------

Tagging: @loveyatopluto, @raging-bisexual-alert, @ireallyshouldsleeprn, @annejulianneh111, @whosanxiety, @raeisgaeandahalf, @bookish-mind, @juliazato

#snowbaz #simon snow #baz pitch #ficlet #fanfic #carry on #wayward son #one shot

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managedmischiefs · 4 years ago

Text

north//chapter ten

genre: angst

pairing: season ten spencer reid x female oc

warnings: panic attack, talk of maeve and that whole situation, death, mention of drugs and relapse

word count: 9.8k

summary: spencer gets to see another part of amelia’s ugly side and amelia gets more than she bargained for when she steps onto her balcony

also i just wanted to say that the panic attack described in this chapter is based off of my experience with panic attacks. nobody has the same experience, but this is based off mine. also part two, i don’t know how medication for panic attacks really work, what i wrote is literally based off my experience with migraine medication. so if it’s not accurate, then i apologize. i also apologize for taking so long to write this. school was a lot and my mental health sucks. but it’s here now!! enjoy

AMELIA

"Yaz, if you don't stop moving, I'm going to purposely poke your fucking eye out!"

"It's not my fault! Quinn keeps nudging me!"

"No, I'm not!"

I roll my eyes at the two girls in front of me, flicking my wrist to put the final touches on Yaz’s makeup. "You two need to shut up." I then grab Quinn’s shoulders and force her to move against the wall, right next to Yaz. They continue to quietly bicker with each other.

"So," Frankie speaks up from across my studio, lounged back in a bean bag chair, fiddling away with a camera of his own, "Lia, you're coming up on one year with your genius doctor FBI boyfriend, right?"

"Mhm," I hum, too focused on painting my friends' bodies to give a full and coherent answer.

"Do you guys have plans yet? Dinner? Movie? I don't even know what you guys do as dates. In fact, I don't really know much about this guy at all. Are we even sure he exists?" Michael teases, waving around his bottle of beer. Quinn squirms away from my grasp to take a sip of his beer and only comes back when I tug on her hand.

"No plans yet," I mumble, biting my tongue for a moment as I focus on getting the swirls of blue and yellow just right. If the painting isn’t absolutely perfect then I’ll never be happy with the way the pictures come out. And if I’m not happy with the pictures that come from today then that just means I wasted my time today. "We don't make plans in advance, really. His job doesn't allow for that."

"His job doesn't allow for that?" Dani scoffs. "Stupid excuse. Horrible excuse. Men are trash. How can you be sure that all the time he’s spending ‘at work’ and not with another girl? Or maybe another guy? I don’t know, I don’t judge. Maybe he’s-"

"Dani," I hiss, twisting my head to send her a pointed look, "he's an FBI agent. He hunts down serial killers for a living. He travels for work on a whim and it’s not a big deal. He’s not gay and it’s rude to speculate about someone’s sexuality, especially if you’ve never met them."

"But don't you want him around him more?" Frankie jumps up from his seat and throws his arm around my shoulder, effectively pulling away from my work. He thinks that grabbing me will diffuse the situation, bring some humor, keep me from getting too upset. But it actually does all the opposite and I can feel a ball of heat growing and swelling in my stomach.

I’ve been friends with this bunch since college. We all went to Carnegie Mellon together and even lived in a house together in junior and senior year, but they aren’t always the best of friends. Clearly. They can be quite judgemental and exclusive when it comes to people outside of our friend group. Jenna and I commonly find ourselves sharing looks across rooms when one of our friends says something rude or stupid. They’re not the best, but we’ve been through so much together and they are all I have.

I push Frankie away from me as best as I can. "Do you guys just not like him because he's a federal agent?" The room goes silent and that's enough of an answer for me. I scoff, moving across the room to grab some more paint and squirt it into my palette. I wind up putting too much on my palette and groan, screwing off the top of the paint tube and trying to scoop the extra paint back in. The longer I try, the less gets back inside the tube and the more my frustration starts to grow, the more tears well up in my eyes. "You're complaining about my boyfriend who you've never met just because he works for the FBI. Ridiculous. Unfair."

"We get arrested all the time and all we do is spray paint empty brick walls," Dani protests, and, again, judging by the silence of the others in the room, I know that they have no problems with what Dani is saying. "It's bullshit! We should be able to express ourselves creatively without having to do art in the middle of the night and worry about being thrown in a holding cell."

"First of all; express yourself creatively on a canvas, not on someone’s property. Second; I can promise that you’re not getting arrested by federal agents. You’re getting arrested by cops and my boyfriend is not a cop," I growl at my supposed friends. I don't get angry easily. In fact, I'm a very patient person and I've been told that by many people on many occasions. My first instinct is to never get mad. Anger doesn’t get anyone anywhere. I prefer to have conversations instead of screaming matches and to hear out the other side's argument. But this is different. This is Spencer we’re talking about. I love Spencer more than anything and since meeting him, I know I'd do anything to protect him, even if that means arguing with my friends on his behalf. It’s not fair for them to be making these judgments about him. "You get arrested by Virginia Police so if you wanna hate anyone then hate them. Don't you dare all go hating my boyfriend for no reason. Don't hate him when you've never met him."

I throw my palette onto a table, not caring about paint splatter, and grab my phone, leaving my studio and heading into the fresh air. My heart is pounding against my tightening chest as I lean against the brick wall and slide down to an incredibly uncomfortable crouching position, tucking my head between my knees. The stance almost instantly makes my back ache and my neck sting but I ignore it. Maybe I deserve the pain. My breathing quickly gets more and more shallow and my head goes light. I try to lift my head to bring sunlight into my eyes, but my head seems far too heavy to move. I reach for my phone and it slips right out of my fingers when they tremble too much for me to get a grip on the thin metal. This feeling is helpless, painful, too familiar. I can’t seem to get a grasp on myself and I’m spiraling out of control more and more by the second. Every gasp for breath turns into a sob and every attempt to move my head turns into overwhelming shame when I notice people passing by are staring at me and whispering.

It's almost perfect that my phone starts to buzz on the ground and I manage to open my eyes enough to see that Spencer is calling me. I attempt another deep breath to calm myself down but it doesn't work and it only makes my grip on reality dwindle. It's getting harder to breathe and my eyes are stinging with tears. With every pounding beat of my heart, my chest gets tighter and tighter and tighter until it feels like someone has successfully squeezed my lungs flat.

The buzzing of my phone should bring me back to reality but it just makes it worse. It’s an annoying, persistent sound that just won’t stop. It won’t stop. It just won’t stop. I want to answer, I need to answer, but I just wish the sound would stop. The way to get it to stop is to answer. Just answer. It’ll stop if you answer. You’ll feel better if you answer. I slam my hand down on the ground and grope the floor until I manage to grab my phone and bring it up to my ear.

"Hi, love," Spencer's chipper voice comes through the receiver, none the wiser to my current situation. He's been away on a case since early yesterday morning, having woken me up while getting dressed, kissing me goodbye, and leaving my apartment to get to the BAU. I would kill to have him here right now. Maybe he could talk me down and reteach me how to breathe. Maybe he could reinflate my lungs and kiss my hands until they stop trembling.

I try to answer, but nothing coherent comes out. I let out a strangled sob, my fingernails digging into my knee so hard that I worry I might draw blood. My inability to communicate is frustrating and that ball of heat in my stomach rises up to my chest. The trembling overpowers me and I almost drop my phone again.

"Amelia? What's wrong? Are you okay? Talk to me," Spencer says quickly, and it's only followed by more choked wheezes from me. "You've gotta breathe, okay? Take really deep breaths for me. In through your nose and out from your mouth.”

His instructions seem simple enough to do. Just breathe. That’s all I have to do. It’s simple. Just breathe. I open my mouth to try to speak to him, to tell him what’s happening, even though I’m pretty sure he can tell, but all that comes out is fragments of words and whimpers.

"It’s okay, you’re okay. You don’t need to speak. In through your nose, out from your mouth, remember? Can you try that for me?" I’m not sure how long I’m sitting there for, on the phone, trying to focus on my boyfriends’ voice as he tries to calm me down. It feels like I’m sitting for a few hours, but my tiny grasp on reality lets me know that it’s been ten minutes at the most. I just do what I can to focus on Spencer and what he is telling me to do and how I can calm down. I clench my fists and finally succeed in doing what he tells me to after a while, breathing heavily in through my nose, my chest burning as the heaving comes to a gradual stop. I breathe out and then repeat the process a few times. “There you go. You’re doing so well. I’m right here for you, okay? Take all the time you need.”

He continues to tell me sweet nothings and encourages me to breathe until my breathing has regulated and my head lays slack against my knees. Spencer lets just a few moments of silence go by to let me collect myself before he speaks again. “Are you feeling a little better now?” I gather enough energy, the last of it, to hum a confirmation. "Where are you right now?" Spencer asks next. Even just his voice calms me down. Maybe it's his experience with his job but he sounds so calm right now. Nobody in my life has ever been able to remain so calm during one of my panic attacks, leaving me to cry and heave and occasionally faint in private. But Spencer's voice sounds so soothing and calm and low that just him speaking helps me more than anything. More than any useless, overwhelming, smothering hug ever has.

"Studio.”

"Okay. You should get home and get some rest. "

"Mhm.”

"You shouldn't drive. I don't know if you did, but either way, please don't drive. Take the train or call someone to drive you home," Spencer pleads. "I was calling to tell you that we're on our way home. We closed the case and we're leaving in a few minutes for the airport, but don't wait for me. You need to go home and get rest. Panic attacks are really taxing and you need to re-energize. I'll come over when I get back but you need to get home."

"Amelia?" I hear Jenna's voice approaching me but I don't even bother to look up. "Are you okay?"

I've exhausted my energy on speaking just those few words to Spencer so when Jenna gets close enough to me, I just lift the phone up for her. She crouches down beside me and grabs my phone, wedging it between her shoulder and her ear as she pushes my hair out of my face. I try to lean away from her touch but I can’t get very far. "Who is this? Oh, hi, Spencer. This is Jenna. She's right next to me. I can definitely bring her home. Don't worry, I'll get her home and I'll stay with her until you come around, it's no problem. I'll take her phone and let you know when I get her home. Okay, bye."

I finally lift my head and look at Jenna, watching her tuck my phone into her pocket, giving me this stupid, pitiful smile that I’ve seen far too many times in my life. A half smile that says, it sucks that you’re going through something but I only kind of care. "Mr. Genius says I gotta bring you home and keep you safe until he comes over and I don't feel like ending up in prison, so let's go, babe." I don’t have it in me to correct her to day Doctor Genius instead of Mister Genius. Jenna holds her hands out to help me up.

I bring my shaking hands up to hers and let her pull me to my feet and lead me over to her car, feeling weak and useless as she pulls the seatbelt over my chest. I pout as she dotes over me, humming casually to herself just so she can make this situation not so tense, but it just makes it seem like she doesn’t care. "Okay," Jenna says, hand poised on the passenger side door, "I'm gonna go kick everyone out of your studio and then we'll get going. Sit tight."

///

"Hi, Spencer, I'm Jenna,"

"Hi, Jenna. Is she okay?"

"Yeah, she's sleeping on the couch. She didn't even wanna go upstairs to bed so she asked me to put on a record and she just passed out on the couch."

Everything sounds foggy as I wake up what I assume is hours later in an uncomfortable position, curled up on my couch. My head is pounding and my eyes feel puffy and I'm now regretting not forcing myself to get into bed. I would have much rathered waking up with my duvet wrapped around me and my head on Spencer’s pillow. Waking up on this stiff couch with my toes virtually frozen and my head twisted uncomfortably on the armrest isn’t how I wanted to wake up post-panic attack.

I open my eyes just in time to see Spencer setting his go-bag down beside the coffee table, sending me that same stupid, pitiful smile. "Hi," he whispers, coming to sit on the floor in front of me. He raises his hand to drag his fingertips along my cheekbone and the soft touch makes my eyes flutter closed. I’ve gotten used to being without him when he’s away on cases, and having Spencer with me makes all the separated days easier. I know that the moments like this make up for the times I lay awake at night, staring at the ceiling, because I can’t sleep if his arms around me and if I can’t hear his heartbeat. "Are you feeling okay?"

"Mm," I hum, but it's not much of an answer, not a satisfying one, at the least.

"It's good that you got some sleep but you gotta have something to eat too. Do you want me to order something?" I nod slowly at his suggestion that I couldn’t care less about. I just want his hands on me. "Okay, I will. Sit tight, I'll be right back."

A whine falls from my lips as I reach my hand out for his, hoping to keep him from leaving. I just need his touch and his love and his affection to feel better. I don’t need sleep or food or anything he could possibly suggest that helps a person relax after a panic attack, based on this study I read. I love his facts but I just want him to hold me and tell me that everything is going to be okay, even if it doesn’t feel like it will. The boiling hot baths I usually take after a panic attack never do the trick. Nothing does the trick like physical affection does.

"Don't go," the words could barely be considered words, especially not after I mumble them through almost closed lips.

"I’m not leaving," Spencer crouches down again and presses a kiss to my forehead, and I’m sure he realizes that a kiss was the wrong move because I just keep trying to pull him closer. “I just wanna order you something to eat, okay? Let me bring you upstairs and get you in bed and then I’ll call for something. Is that okay?”

Spencer is sitting up on his knees before I even try to answer because even though he's posed a question, he doesn't need an answer. He knows how to help me from the studies he reads and he knows what needs to be done and he's relatively stubborn. So despite how my body feels heavy and how I wish I could just melt into the couch cushions with my arms wrapped around my boyfriend, I force myself to sit up. Spencer scoops me up and carries me up the stairs, setting me down in bed and tugging the duvet all the way up to my chin.

Spencer goes a bit overboard with tucking me in, but I don’t mind, as long as his hands are on me. And he is happy with his work, he finally takes off his peacoat and sets it on the edge of the bed. "I'm just gonna go run downstairs and order something and make some tea, okay? Did you take your medication?" He turns away from me and goes towards the stairs, digging his phone out of his pocket.

"Huh?"

Spencer halts himself from walking down the stairs, turning his chin over his shoulder. "Your medication," he turns his body towards me. "You know, for your panic attack?"

I shake my head, eyebrows furrowed so much that it makes my headache worse. "No, no, I don't have any."

My fuzzy brain can't exactly decipher the look on Spencer's face, but he turns his back to me yet again and rushes down the stairs. I let out a hum at his confusing reaction, but it turns into a disappointed whine as he gets further and further away from me. So, still in my post-panic attack state, I reach for Spencer's coat for some sort of comfort.

As I tug on it, something falls out of the pocket. I blindly reach for it and have every intention of tucking it back into the pocket it came from, but the cool metal of the object heightens my senses, as if the object brings me back down to earth. I hold Spencer's jacket to my chest as I lay back down against my pillows, looking down at the metal circle in my hand. There's a triangle on the front- or maybe the back?- with a Roman numeral one on it, with the words unity, service, and recovery around the three sides. I turn it over in my hand and find a compass rose with only north labeled.

"Amelia?" My head pops up when I tune into Spencer's footsteps on the last stair, his phone in his hand and his untied converse in the other. He drops his shoes on the floor and then leans against the wall, his eyes traveling down to the floor instead of on me. I can feel his shame from all the way across the room and how his embarrassment starts to consume him. He instantly shuts himself off from me and it’s so disheartening to see how easy it is for him to do so.

"It fell out," I hold it out to him, despite our distance. "What did you order?"

Spencer doesn't move as I hold the medallion out to him, but all he does is tuck his hands in his pocket and study the patterns on his socks. "You don't wanna know what it is?"

I drop my hand against the bed and sigh, having used too much energy to keep my arm up for longer than two seconds, nuzzling my cheek against Spencer's jacket and trying to get a whiff of his cologne. If he won’t come to me then I’ll have to get a piece of him in my bed, even if it’s just the scent on his jacket. I need his comfort. "I know what it is, dove."

He takes a long breath and then walks over, taking the medallion out of my hand and shoving it in his pocket. "Pizza. I'm gonna go change and I'll be right back."

I hadn't even realized he had brought his go-bag upstairs at some point, but I only see it when he carries it into the bathroom. He doesn't shut the door all the way and I find myself wondering why. Maybe he doesn't want to completely shut himself away from me because he can tell I need him close. Or maybe because he didn’t want to rebuild his emotional walls around me, and closing the bathroom door would separate us. But I don’t have the time to come to a clear and coherent hypothesis before he has returned.

He's in a tee shirt and plaid pajama pants when he returns, dropping his bag onto the floor and letting out a heavy sigh. I watch him as he walks around the bed to grab his shoes and begins the process of shoving them into his bag, even though he doesn't need to. He knows he doesn’t need to clean his stuff up immediately. But I notice his medallion in his hand, squeezed between his pointer and middle fingers, and it makes me call out to him. His head whips over to me and I realize I have nothing to say. I need him beside me but he clearly has so much going on in his head and in all the time we've been together, I've never seen his medallion. That makes me nervous. Is this why he's acting like this? Is he thinking about getting his hands on a drug that will ruin his life?

I have nothing to say. But Spencer is staring at me, waiting for me to ask whatever question he thinks I’m needing to ask, as I clutch his jacket like my life depends on it, eyes half-closed as I start to struggle to breathe again. I open my mouth but nothing comes out and a tear drips down my cheek.

Spencer moves to kneel on the bed, pulling his jacket out of my hands and replacing the fabric with his body. "Hey, I'm right here, Lia, just breathe. Sit up for me, sweetheart," He places his hands on my waist and helps me sit up, coaxing my head between my knees. He somehow knows exactly what to do, despite not being able to see me during my previous attack. He knows just how softly I need to be touched and what volume to speak at without overwhelming me. "It's okay, it's okay, I'm right here, don't worry. I don’t want you to get worked up again." I manage to nod, and he kisses my forehead as a reward. Spencer just keeps holding me and whispering praises, tucking my head under his chin and rubbing my back with a feather light touch. “There you go. There’s my girl.”

“I’m okay,” I whisper, but it’s more for myself than for him.

“Yeah, you are,” he affirms. "Will you talk to me about these attacks and how I can help you?" His sweet voice is so buttery and smooth that I get lost in it, eyes fluttering and almost completely missing his question. I just want him to keep talking, to read me poetry or tell me random facts that I’ll probably never need to know. I just want him to talk, and talk, and talk, and break me away from the prison in my mind. I just want him to distract me.

“Um,” I lean into his touch when he brings his hand into my hair, scratching me behind my ears like a cat. But when I manage to open my eyes and look at him, he’s giving me such a serious look, one that says he means business, and I know that there’s no room for jokes or wit. “I don’t know. I’ve mostly dealt with panic attacks alone. I just let them happen and wait for them to be done.”

Spencer’s eyes widen in surprise but he quickly tries to hide his reaction, clearing his throat as a distraction, but it’s nowhere close to this distraction I had hoped for. “So you don’t know any coping mechanisms or take any medication for panic attacks?” I shake my head no. “Have you ever gone to a doctor or a therapist about this?”

Definitely not the distraction I was hoping for. I reach for the duvet and pull it over my head, deciding to ignore him. I manage to crawl out of Spencer’s lap and curl up on my pillow with my back to him, earning a defeated sigh from my boyfriend beside me. He takes a breath to speak but then the doorbell rings and I can only assume that means that dinner is here. Without a word spoken, Spencer climbs off the bed and goes to answer the door. I hear his chatting quietly with the delivery person before his sock-covered footsteps echo back up the stairs, and he returns with a pizza box.

Spencer just casually suggesting I go to a doctor or a therapist is so obnoxious and annoying and I truly can’t remember a time in our relationship when I was this mad at him. He talks as though a doctor's visit will solve all my problems and if taking a pill will turn me into the healthy, stress-free, mental illness-free girl that I want to be, but never have been, and never will be. I spent my childhood taking care of myself and my brother and I can keep doing that as an adult. I’ve gotten this far in my life, farther than I thought I would, so I’m not going to fix something that isn’t broken.

Spencer sits at the foot of the bed and sets the pizza box in the middle of the bed, not saying a word as he opens it up and separates the slices. I sit up slowly, rubbing my eyes as I tuck my legs underneath me. I reach for a piece of pizza and lean over the cardboard so I don't get the bed messy. If the bed gets messy and crumby then Spencer won’t be able to sleep tonight, knowing that there’s particles of food all over the duvet. He seems to be on the same train of thought because he refuses to move the piece of pizza in his hand away from the box. If I wasn’t so upset, I’d be telling him how cute he is and finding his cleanliness endearing and suggesting that we eat at the table downstairs instead of my bed. But the tension is so thick that I could cut it with a knife, and I don’t have the energy to ease it. But apparently, Spencer does.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Spencer asks casually, keeping his eyes down as he takes another bite of his pizza. "The way you talk,” he pauses and considers his words very carefully, “you've clearly had panic attacks before."

"It's not a big deal."

"Amelia," the stony, serious tone of his voice makes my head pop up. He looks annoyed, as if he doesn't believe what I'm saying. I haven’t yet learned that lying to a profiler is useless. "You had a panic attack on a public sidewalk and it was so bad that you went nonverbal. Panic attacks happen to a lot of people but they're serious and debilitating and you should get treatment for them."

"Don’t tell me what I should do. I don't need treatment," I answer far too quickly. "I know you have your degree in psychology or whatever but I don’t need to hear it. I’ve taken care of myself for this long and I actually happen to think I’ve done a pretty good job at it, so I don’t need medication or therapy to interfere.”

Realization flashes on Spencer's face and he puts his piece of pizza down, leaning his elbows against his knees. "Seeking out help doesn’t make you weak."

I scoff and roll my eyes into the back of my head, but maybe that's just to avoid eye contact or to repress the tears that burn at my ducts. "That's not what this is about."

"I didn’t mention anything about my degree, Amelia,” Spencer snaps. “And all I’m trying to do is help you. You can go to a therapist and discuss coping mechanisms and figure out why you even have them or go to a doctor and get medication that will regulate attacks and maybe you'll get something to take after you get attacks, it'll be so much-"

"No!" I shout, cutting him off, my hands balled into fists as I struggle to rein in all the nasty things I want so badly to say, but that I know he doesn’t deserve. "I won't! I'm not! I'm fine without it! I've gone my whole fucking life like this and I don't need to be fixed!"

I decide it's the appropriate time to throw a temper tantrum and scramble off the bed, not even bothering to grab a jacket or a blanket or shoes or anything as I stomp down the stairs and throw open the door to the balcony. It's colder than I remember it being and the air instantly seizes up my bones, but I ignore the feeling as I close the door behind me. I lean against the railing and let a few tears silently slip down my cheeks, not bothering to wipe them and instead letting them trail down my neck and dampen the neckline of my crewneck. Fresh air used to always calm me down, but now, being alone on a balcony after fighting with Spencer, the air only feels suffocating.

A few minutes pass before I head the door slide open and Spencer steps out. I expect him to speak right away, to use his profiling skills to defuse the situation, but he doesn't. He drapes a blanket over my shoulders and as frustrated as I am at him and at the world and at myself, the tiny gesture makes me feel better. I'm craving his touch yet again and I wish he would just wrap his arms around me, but yet again, he doesn't. I tug the blanket as tight as I can around my shoulders and imagine it's his arms. His arms that are so close to me but feel like they are miles away.

"I've been a hypocrite." Spencer's voice is quiet, but not in the same way as it was during my attacks. No, before he was quiet for my sake. But now he seems quiet because he can't bear to speak any louder. Like if he hears his own words, he will combust and break down. "I kept something from you too."

I turn around and find that he's sitting down in one of the armchairs, another blanket wrapped around his shoulders. I, yet again, notice that his medallion is in his hand. But he's not trying to hide it, he's staring right down at it.

"Does it have anything to do with your medallion and why it was in your pocket?"

"Partly," he answers, and then looks up at me, pretty brown eyes already glistening with tears. If I wasn’t so upset, if Spencer wasn’t so upset, if the tension hadn’t carried outside, I would have poked his perfect nose and told him how cute he is when the tip of his nose gets red from the cold. My eyes are just focused on the medallion though, being passed between his fingers with expertise and never slipping out. "I'm clean, I promise. I wouldn't risk breaking my sobriety. I have too much to lose now. I've got you, and my job, and my team- my friends, Henry. But, um, yeah, there's something that I didn't tell you and I know that I should."

Partially born from my own selfish need for affection, coupled with Spencer's broken down state, I go and sit on his lap. He happily lets me do so, draping one hand over my thigh, holding the medallion there. I rest my head on his chest and wait for him to feel comfortable enough to start his story. I can feel his heart pounding against his chest and I stare down his hand, tap-tap-tapping on the arm of the chair. His nervousness is just as palpable as the tension.

"So, um, do you remember when we first met? You always like to point out how you're not the profiler here but did you happen to notice how nervous I was?"

"Mm," I hum, racking my brain for the memories of our first few coffee dates. I remember his strained smiles and his stuttered out words. I think back to us spending Christmas together and how, later on, he just blurted out an invitation to be his girlfriend that lacked finesse and confidence. He has always been nervous around me, but I always just thought that he was nervous with new relationships. It never crossed my mind that there was a reason other than anxiety. "Of course. The first day we met, I don't even think you took your bag off, right? I just thought dates made you nervous."

"Well, yeah, that's kinda true," Spencer sighs and when he tilts his head down, his lips brush against my temple. His warm lips bring a shiver down my spine and he holds me tighter against his cold body. "The truth is, about two years before I met you, I had a girlfriend, her name was Maeve. Our relationship wasn't really conventional. We, um,” he pauses and shifts his weight, “she was a geneticist and I saw her when I was having migraines, but then we started dating. We never met each other though."

His constant past tense is alarming. Was.

"We talked on the phone. She had a stalker from before I met her and she wanted to make sure that I didn’t get wrapped up in it. And we had to be safe so we only talked on pay phones. Only on Sunday's and never from the same phone twice. I thought I, um, I thought I loved her and then-" Spencer lets out a breath that sounds defeated, tired, helpless. He drops the medallion into my lap and his hands fly up to cover his face, another shaky breath falling from his lips. “I shouldn’t be telling you this when you're in such a fragile mental state. This is a lot of information and-”

"If you want to tell me then you can. I’m not a fragile little girl, I can take it. But if you don’t think you can then that’s okay too. I don’t need you to show me all the skeletons in your closet because you think you’ve been hypocritical.”

Spencer drops his hands, revealing his quivering lips and wet waterline. I return the medallion to the palm of his hand and close his fingers around it. "I mean,” he lets out the tiniest, saddest chuckle, “I was being hypocritical, being mad at you for keeping information a secret when I was doing the same.”

“Okay, maybe a little,” my slight teasing gets a more genuine laugh out of him, and he drops his forehead to my shoulder to hide it. “But it’s okay. I understand that there’s some things you don’t wanna share immediately.”

Spencer keeps his head down, his hand in a tight fist around his medallion and the other on my waist, keeping me close. I can practically feel his fear and anxiety and his overwhelming pain through the tips of his fingers digging into my skin, and I want so badly to take it from him. I would gladly shoulder his pain so he doesn’t have to drag it around behind him like a suitcase with a broken wheel. But as badly as I want to, I can’t help him the way I want to and so I just need to comfort him to the best of my ability.

"She got kidnapped and shot in front of me," he blurts out quickly, the memory obviously too painful to say gracefully. "I realized she was gone so the team investigated and we found Maeve and the unsub brought me inside where she was being held and had me see her for the first time ever and then killed herself and Maeve right in front of me and there was nothing I could do about it."

Sometimes I don't know what to say to Spencer. He sees the worst that society has to offer, and the worst took away the first woman that he loved. I don't always know how to comfort him. Sometimes he just wants to be held and would rather not verbalize his feelings. And although I don’t love it when he decides to not talk things out, cuddling and giving out kisses is easier than arguing with him and trying to get him to talk about things he doesn’t want to. So physical affection is easier. But right now he doesn't seem to want to be held and I don't know how to help him. He didn't want to tell me this but clearly, today hasn't gone how either of us has wanted it to go. I've been spontaneously panicking and he's now confessing that his girlfriend was killed. None of this is right.

It takes him a few minutes to start speaking again, but when he does, his voice is quiet. "I almost relapsed after that," his head finds home on my shoulder again, and his other arm wraps around my waist. He holds me tight against his chest, adjusting the blanket around me to make sure I’m always covered and warm. "When I first got clean, I brought my medallion with me everywhere I went. I couldn't leave the house without it. I brought it with me on cases, to the store, everywhere. Then time passed and I could leave without it, and I was really proud of that. But then Maeve died and suddenly it was like I was right back at square one. I couldn't go anywhere without it. I needed the reminder of all my hard work and dedication or else I would've easily relapsed."

"Is," my voice is shakier than I wanted it to be, "is there something that's making you wanna relapse now?"

"Stalking cases," he answers, and that's not at all the answer I was expecting. I’m not really sure exactly what kind of answer I was expecting, but it wasn’t stalking cases. "They're common and they're not always violent so we don't always investigate but when we do, I hate it. It’s like torture on those cases, just having to relive what happened with her. Hotch doesn't even let me take part in takedowns of stalking cases because we both know I wouldn't be stable if a hostage situation happened. So,” he tucks his head into my neck this time, and I can feel his lips on my skin, leaving light kisses to make up for the heavy topic, “yeah, that’s what I was keeping from you. I’m sorry.”

“You don’t need to apologize, dove. I understand.”

I turn my head away from him and stare out at the city. The sun is setting and the sky is painted a pretty pink and purple, mixed together in a way I wish I could achieve in my work. But the people below pay no mind to it. They speed-walk to whatever their next destination is and keep their noses tucked in their phones, or to wave their hand for a cab and bark out orders and throw money at the person who spends their lives being chauffeurs to rude politicians and businessmen. Nobody cares to look up and admire the beauty around them, beauty that they won’t see some day. They don’t look up at the unnatural colors in the sky or check to see if the clouds have taken the form of a shoe or a candy wrapper. They just walk, and walk, and walk. They don’t care. Nobody ever cares.

"I'm sorry," I choke out, tears suddenly pouring down my cheeks. I reach for Spencer’s hands, intertwining our fingers but keeping his arms around my waist. I don’t want to be without his comfort and his arms and his warmth. He seems to feel the same because he pulls me even closer somehow, my body completely flush against his. "I love you, Spencer, and you-” I hiccup, “fuck, you didn't deserve any of that."

"You're all I need in this life, Amelia. I didn't think I'd ever fall in love again but now I have you and," I can feel his hands shaking in mine, and although it’s hard to tell if it’s from the cold or from anxiety. "I just love you so much. Please don’t leave me."

"I’m never gonna leave you, Spencer Reid. Ever. I'm not going anywhere," I whisper, but I can't tell who it's a reassurance for. "I love you."

///

SPENCER

///

THE NEXT MORNING

///

No amount of nights turned into mornings at Amelia’s apartment could get me used to being woken up to sun beams in my eyes.

I scrunch up my face as the sunlight flows through the windows and almost blinds me. I roll over and reach towards Amelia's side of the bed, grabbing a fistful of sheets instead of a fistful of her. I let out a disappointed sigh and force my eyes open, popping one lid open to confirm my sad realization that I'm waking up alone. Now I'm understanding how Amelia feels when I have to leave for cases.

I can feel the heat blasting and it makes it bearable for me to exist in only my pair of pajama pants, so I don't bother to put a shirt on. I swing my legs over the side of the bed and check my phone, just to make sure there isn't a spontaneous case on a Saturday, and there thankfully isn't anything yet. So I run a hand through my hair that is probably wild and climb out of bed, making the trek down the occasionally terrifying floating stairs.

I pause on the last step when I peer into the kitchen, the dumbest smile appearing on my face when I locate my girlfriend. She's sitting on the counter in the kitchen with her legs up and crossed at the ankles, dressed in only an oversized white tee shirt and pale blue wool socks. Matching, unfortunately. She's wearing her normal butterfly necklace, I can see from here, but she's missing all of her piercings- nose ring and earrings. Her natural curls are out in full force and are only contained by one of her patterned scarves, wrapped around her head like a headband. She's holding an apple in one hand and she has a book resting in her lap but I can't quite see the spine to read the title. But this is one of the moments I'm thankful for my fancy memory, as Amelia calls it, because she looks so effortlessly stunning and perfect and beautiful that I'm glad I'll remember this moment forever.

I watch her for a moment. She wiggles her toes every few seconds and then takes a loud bite from the apple, flipping the page and darting her eyes across the lines. Effortless. Remarkable. I'm often blown away by her simple beauty. I wonder how she does it without trying. How she renders me speechless. How she makes me feel like a teenager in love. How she makes me feel like a lovesick puppy, galloping around at her feet with stars in my eyes. How she makes me feel like she's completely out of my league. How she makes me feel like I'm the luckiest man in the whole world.

When I decide that I have to get my hands on her, I step off the stairs. She still doesn't notice my presence, I credit that to my bare feet on the hardwood, and she only looks up when a floorboard creaks. She lifts her chin and reveals her stunning dimples, ocean eyes wide for me. "Morning!" she quips, tucking a bookmark into the page and setting her book aside. "Wasn't sure you were ever gonna wake up."

"I don't like waking up alone," I brush my fingertips along her leg as I walk closer, eliciting a shy giggle from Amelia. No matter how many times I touch her, she still gets shy about it. I peer over her legs and my eyebrows raise. "You're reading Rossi's book? What's that about?"

Amelia giggles, picking up the book and inspecting the cover. "It's more of a courtesy, actually. I bought all three books of his the other day and I'm planning on ripping out all the pages to use for a piece of art for my next exhibit. But I figured I'd read them first before I destroy them, you know? He saved my life as a kid so the least I can do is read his books before I destroy them."

"Hmm," it's not really at all the answer I was expecting. I watch her face as she plasters on a shy smile, kicking her feet like an excited child and clutching the book to her chest. I don’t have the heart to ask her any more questions about her decision to rip up Rossi’s books because I don’t want to wipe that smile off her face. "Interesting. Breakfast?"

"Not before you give me a kiss," Amelia's delicate voice balances out the horrors Rossi illustrates in his book as she brings her lips to mine. "If you're cooking, I don't care what you make."

"Sounds like a plan,” and just as I didn’t have the heart to question her art, I don’t have it in me to go further than an inch away from her lips before she decides it’s okay. So that leads to kissing for far too long, the book tumbling out of Amelia’s hands and onto her lap, my hands holding her jaw. Her lips are different in the morning, slightly chapped and not yet bleeding from being chewed relentlessly. But, for some reason, I prefer them like this. And I definitely prefer chapped lips to glossy lips that get all over my face and takes a makeup remover wipe to get rid of. I quickly flip through the last few images of Amelia in my head and notice she hasn’t worn lip gloss in a while. Maybe that’s for the better though. She won’t have to hear me complain and watch me rub at my lips and grimace when my hand gets sticky too.

“Okay, okay,” Amelia giggles, grabbing my hands and pushing them away, “let’s not get carried away. I am hungry.”

“Then why didn’t you make breakfast yourself?” I sass, turning on my heel to start collecting breakfast ingredients and feed my hungry lady.

“Haha,” she snickers sarcastically, rolling her eyes at me. And a comfortable silence falls over us as I start cooking, occasionally glancing over to watch her thumb through the book. It etches a hopefully permanent smile onto my face.

"I do have a question, though," Amelia fiddles with the corner of a page, curling it between her finger and keeping her eyes down. I hum lazily in response, mixing pancakes batter, far too focused on making sure I get measurements correct to be able to make eye contact with her. "I don't wanna make you uncomfortable but your medallion- well, it," she sighs, obviously not able to find the words for what she wants to say.

It’s not my favorite topic of conversation so early in the morning, but I guess the sooner Amelia asks her questions and gets them out of her system, the sooner we can stop having conversations about my demons. "You can ask whatever you want to.”

"It's not a bad question, I don't think," she responds, and turns so her legs are swinging over the edge of the counter, facing me. "I'm just curious what the compass on the back means. It seems odd to me. I mean, the front says recovery and all but the back has a compass? I've never heard of these medallions having a compass on them."

"The designs differ," despite the relatively tame question, I busy myself by trying to create perfect circles with the batter on the hot skillet. She could've asked me about my experience with drugs and how it feels and she could have unknowingly triggered me, but no. She just wants to know about the compass. I guess that’s better than making me relive relapse or make me remember what a high feels like. "I've obviously been clean for more than a year, so the other medallions I have for other years have different designs on the back. But I always liked the one year medallion the best."

"Will you tell me why?" She presses gently, pulling her knees back up to her chest. I've seen her do this plenty of times, shut herself off from conversations, I mean, and I hate it when she does. On normal days, when she shuts herself off from conversations, I do what I can to put her at ease and get her to open back up. But if anyone should be shutting off from this conversation, it’s me. "You don't have to, if it makes you uncomfortable."

"Getting to one year is really hard," I admit quickly, keeping my eyes off her as I move the pancakes from the skillet to a plate. "So when I finally got to one year and I got the medallion, it was a huge accomplishment for me. And the compass? It’s just a thing that my program preached. North is always regarded as the right way to go, even though that’s not really true in theory, but I never pointed that out. But my program had us pick someone or something to represent north for each person. So that way, if anyone was ever going through withdrawals or cravings, we could think of that thing we chose and it would give us the motivation to get through a hard time. The thing would give us a reason to go north, the right way. Basically, the way to recovery. The way to go back home.”

“And what did you choose?”

“My job,” it’s such an unenthusiastic answer, no light or happiness in my voice. “My job was all I had at the time, but my job being my north never felt right. It was never really motivating. Maybe that’s why it was so hard to get past a year. I had nothing to look forward to.”

"One more question," Amelia speaks, softer this time. "Can you come here?"

I look up and find that Amelia is resting her chin on her knees, giving me that same cute smile from before. I nod, scooping the last pancake off the skillet and putting it on the pile before walking over, dragging my feet. Amelia drops her legs and holds out her arms, wrapping them around my shoulders the moment I get close enough. I instantly melt into her embrace and tuck my face into her neck, feeling her fingers on the back of my neck, tracing small shapes and letters.

"I know that I didn't know you back then," Amelia whispers, warm breath tickling my skin, "but I'm proud of you. I'm proud that you're strong enough to keep your head up and stay clean. And thank you for trusting me with all this information. I love you so much."

My body is filled with that familiar warmth that I only feel when Amelia is around, and I can't stop the smile that comes to my face. The tears in my eyes dry up quickly at the praise. "Thank you for loving me."

"I always will," she pulls away and slides her hands up to my face, pointer fingertips tracing my jaw and up to my cheekbones. She swipes her finger across my bottom lip and then brings it up to my nose, poking it gently and giggling under her breath. She’s deep in thought, I can tell from the look on her face. "You know,” she smooths down my eyebrows and then her fingers follow my hairline all the way down to my jaw, “I’ll be your north," she suggests. "I know you always tell me that talking to me when you're on cases helps, but I wanna help you with everything, with every aspect of your life. I wanna help you with the ugliest parts of your life, and not just the ugly parts of your job. I'll be your north. I'll be your reason to come home and I'll be- I'll be like your guiding light. I'll be your lighthouse. I'll just," her hands halt on my cheeks and her legs twist around my waist, bringing our bodies flush, "I'll be your north."

My heart is pounding as I smile at her, the tears that had just dried up coming back tenfold. She's smiling her stupidly gorgeous smile but not even making eye contact, just staring down at my lips as she lets her brain settle from all the words she just vomited and as she holds herself back from her obvious impulse to actually kiss me. So I lean forward and peck her lips, untangling our limbs. "I'll be right back," I ignore the sting in my chest at the disappointment clear on her face as I pull completely away from her hold. But I kiss her cheek for reassurance before I disappear back upstairs, grabbing my go-bag.

I return to the kitchen with last year’s Christmas present in my hands and open up to the page I'm searching for, walking up to my girl. Her back is to me, pouring more batter onto the skillet to finish up breakfast. But the moment she puts the bowl of batter back on the counter, I swing my arms over her head and bring the sketchbook in front of her to show her a journal entry.

"I didn't always use it for sketches," I explain as she grabs the book from me, "but I use it. A lot. Read that entry," Amelia goes radio silent as she reads, and I rest my chin on my shoulder to read with her.

Amelia is my north. I always thought that I'd be alone for the rest of my life and I'd never fall in love again. I thought I had been scorned too hard and I'd never recover. But Amelia gives me a reason to want to go home. She gives me a reason to not make that reckless decision that comes to my mind in the field and she gives me a reason to not go out in the middle of the night and go searching for a new dealer. She gives me a reason to live and maybe it's wrong of me to rely so heavily on another person who could leave me just as easily as everyone else in my life has, but I don't care. She gives me a purpose and she's the reason I come home every day.

It's the little things she does that make me love her. I love seeing her face pop up on Garcia's video chats and I love seeing the snacks she leaves in my desk and the notes she leaves for me and how she always makes a point to clean my apartment when she's over. I've never met someone quite like her.

I didn't think I'd ever find a person to personify "north." I always thought that "north" would remain this mysterious entity that I would blindly chase after my entire life and remain following towards a life of recovery, or a life of constant relapse and pain. Or that I would just continue lying to myself and saying that my “north” was my job. But now I know that Amelia is that "north" that will always be by my side. As long as I have her, then I'll never have to chase after a nameless, faceless goal. I'll always have my north right beside me.

Amelia sniffles as she shuts the sketchbook, setting it gently on the counter. "Okay, fuck you for making me cry."

I toss my head back laugh, grabbing her waist to turn her around, taking the job of wiping her tears. "I’m sorry, love, that wasn't my intention."

"That was really sweet, dove," Amelia disregards her tears, throwing her arms around me and pressing her face into my neck. “I’m never gonna leave you, Spence. I want you to believe that. I love you so much. I’m not going anywhere.”

“I know,” I clutch her waist in my hands as if that would keep her from leaving, “sometimes, I just feel helpless and unlovable and when I feel like that, I come to you.”

“Good. You’re not unlovable. I am so insanely in love with you and you’re never, ever getting rid of me.”

“Good,” I echo, pressing my lips to her shoulder and trailing kisses up her neck. “You’re-” Amelia’s stomach growling silences me, her cheeks turning pink as she ducks her head away. “Okay, alright, the mushy love fest is over. Eat some breakfast.”

“I’m sorry,” she giggles, turning in my arms to dish out pancakes for us, “I’m just really hungry and I wasn’t gonna make anything until you woke up. But the bottom line is that I love you and I’m always gonna be in your apartment, cleaning shit you don’t want me to and annoying the hell out of you.”

“Yeah, you definitely annoy me when you leave the curtains open and I get blinded in the morning.”

Amelia turns to me with the cutest smile, holding a plate of pancakes out for me. “At least you get to wake up next to me in the morning.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” I lean over the plate to give her what seems like the millionth kiss to the morning, “waking up next to you is pretty amazing.”

TAGLIST

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#nikos north fic #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fic #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid x oc #criminal minds fic #dr reid #dr spencer reid #mgg #matthew gray gubler #matthew gubler

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petri808 · 4 years ago

Text

Do You Believe Me Now?

The original post & Reblogs. Since I added more to the original post including smut and it’s at 4k words, I cleaned it up and posted the story to AO3. @bmarvels enjoy lol.

Hakyona, modern AU setting. NSFW

“Psst, Yona?”

I sit up, shielding my eyes to the sunlight. “What is it Lili?”

“You’re missing out on all the hot studs walking around, that’s what!”

“Lili, I told you I came to the beach to relax before finals, not gawk.”

I lie back down on my towel and close my eyes again. It didn’t matter to me what kind of eye candy I was missing out on. Books, studying are all I have time to focus on and besides, there already was one person who’d stolen my heart. Too bad he didn’t seem to notice it. Or at least I wasn’t sure. It was so damn hard to tell with him! He was such a sarcastic ass that I couldn’t tell if he was flirting or just being a punk to me. A groan fires off in my head, and yet through all that, I still fell in love.

But I couldn’t help it! I swear! We’ve known each other since we were kids and once I’d realized I cared more for him then as a friend, I fear that’s all he sees me as. Like a little sister. He is two years older than me after all, and both his guardian and my parents told him to always protect me. Pfft. A frown shadows my expression. Well I’m not that little girl anymore!

“Yona get up, get up, get up!”

“Lili, for the last time...”

“Isn’t that Hak over there?”

Quickly, I sit up and look over to where she’s pointing. My heart skips or more like takes a dive. Heaven help me that is Hak! He stood out in the throng of beach goers not just in height but presence.

“I think he’s gotten even cuter,” she snickers. “Damn, all his friends are hot too! Why didn’t you tell me he’s got such cute friends?!”

“I-I never noticed.”

“Are you blind? Oh, wait, I get it.” She pokes my side, “just blind to him, right?”

“Ugh!” I cover my face as I feel it heating up. “Lili stop trying to embarrass me, please?!”

“Oh look, he’s heading this way. Hey Hak?!”

I grab her waving hands. “Lili!!”

“Oh hey,” Hak waves back.

I see him grin and his group starts walking in our direction. Can I die, like right now? It was hard enough seeing him normally, but since he’s at the beach, his attire consists of board shorts and no shirt. I don’t know how he keeps his body in such condition, but I swear it’s like it was sculpted by a master artist.

He runs a hand through his wet hair as he chats with the other males, laughing, and smiling. His blue eyes twinkling against the sunlight. I squeeze my thighs together at the sight. All the girls they pass by ogle him, and I don’t blame them. The man was just too handsome for his own good. Before he reaches us, the group shake hands or fist bumps and the rest take off towards the snack stand.

“Hey Lili, Yona,” he grins, “didn’t know you two would be here today.”

“Well, neither did we, unless Yona was hiding that information from me.”

“I was not! I just came to relax.”

“So, relax,” he teases. “What’s stopping you?”

A six-foot hottie, I mumble in my head. “Shouldn’t you go hang out with your friends?”

“Nah.” He stands his surfboard up and sits down right beside me. “We’re finished surfing and was about to leave, but I’d rather hang out with a pretty girl.”

I feel the blush blooming on my face, but I try not to react. Not exactly easy with Lili grinning like a crazy person egging me on. I narrow my eyes at her. If they could shoot daggers, they would.

“You should stop teasing me like that,” I cross my arms, “it’s not funny.”

“But I’m not teasing you, I’m serious.”

Right... “Hak, you always say stuff like that, but I know you just see me as a friend. It’s getting old.”

“Or maybe it’s you who doesn’t want to believe it.” He forces my face to look at him. “What am I supposed to do make you believe me?”

My throat seizes up into a sputter. “I-I don’t know!”

He rolls his eyes. “Lili what do you think I should do to prove it?”

“I think you should just kiss her,” the girl smirks.

“Now that’s a good idea!”

“Don’t you dare Hak!”

“Oh, but I dare.”

He grabs me before I can scramble away. I squeal, but he quickly cuts off my defenses and plants his lips against mine. My eyes widen. Oh my god he did it! He actually kissed me?!

In a blink it was over and as my brain comes back into focus, all I see is a cocky grin and a softened smile. “Do you believe me now?”

Oof! I cross my arms and turn my head away in a huff. “No, I don’t. You’re just putting on a show for Lili and once we leave, it’ll go right back to you treating me like a little sister again, picking on me and teasing me.”

He gasps, feigning indignation, then turns to Lili. “Will you excuse us? I think I need to make this stick.”

“Wait? What?!”

“No, not at all,” the girl snickers. She quickly shoves my belongings into my bag and into my lap. “Here’s your things Yona.”

“Come on,” he drags me to my feet, “my red-haired little princess. We need some privacy.”

“Whoa, Wait!” I tug at his hold. Damn it he’s too strong for me. “Where are you taking me?!”

Hak holds his surfboard under one arm and keeps his other hand gripped to mine. “You don’t believe me, so I need to prove it, right? Don’t make me throw you over my shoulder cause you know I will.”

“Ugh! Hak you’re so cruel to me!” I whine but give in to avoid any more embarrassment. “At least tell me where we’re going.”

“My place so I can shower and,” he grins down in a side-eye, “so we can have a private conversation.”

I gulp hard. Alone with Hak?!

The entire ride in his car, I sit there in the passenger seat running scenarios in my head. How was he going to prove anything to me? I’ve got years of dealing with his sarcasm under my belt, so it’ll take some effort to convince me I’m not just a friend. Though friends don’t normally go around kissing each other unless there’s more to it... Oh please, I scoff in my head. This is Hak, and to prove a point he just might. I’ve convinced myself of that notion.

“Tell me Yona, have you ever seen me with a girlfriend? Don’t answer, just think about it.”

“Because...”

He covers my mouth. “Just think about it until we get to my place.”

When he releases me, I stare out the window fuming. I know that answer! It’s because he’s always just focused on his martial arts and sports. When does he have time for one? I mean there’s nothing wrong with that, but don’t use it as an excuse to trick me. Ugh! And if he really wanted a girlfriend, nothing was stopping him from making a move.

He leaves the surfboard in the foyer and prompts me into the studio apartment. “Are you thirsty? There’s drinks in the fridge, help yourself.” I shake my head no. “Then come on, let’s take a shower.”

My jaw drops and cheeks flush the color of my hair. “S-Shower? With you?!”

“Why not? Gramps used to bathe us together when we were younger.”

“We’re not little kids anymore Hak,” I sputter out, “it’s inappropriate for us to do that now.”

He walks up and kisses the back of my hand. “Not, if I’m trying to seduce you.”

I roll my eyes. “You can drop the rouse now that we’re alone.”

He sighs and runs a hand down his face. “Yona, it’s not a rouse. I’ve always loved you. That’s why I’ve never had a girlfriend.” He turns to his bathroom with his head hung down. “You know what? I give up. Stay till I get out and I’ll take you home or you’re free to leave. It’s up to you.” He pauses his walk. “And for the record, I wouldn’t take advantage of you. I just wanted to see your reaction... guess I got it, huh?”

I watch the door close behind him and drop onto the edge of his bed. My mind is spinning, confused, this was the first time I truly felt like... I believed every word he said. The water turns on in the room, and the sounds of the shower curtain closing was like a nail being hammered into my coffin. Oh god, what have I done? No, no, no! I shake my cradled head. I hadn’t meant to push him away! But that’s exactly what I’ve done. The poor guy looked completely dejected now and here I am sitting on his bed alone.

The tears gather in my eyes and I no longer hold them back from falling free. This man really loves me? “Oh, Hak...” I’m such a fool. I curl up on his bed uncaring of being found this way as the tears stain the bedding. He deserves someone who trusts him, not questions what he does. I should know this man better by now. Hak would never do anything to truly hurt me, and yet here I just broke his heart.

Maybe I should just leave and take my shame with me. But I can’t bring myself to move nor get off his bed. So, I curl in tighter, clinging to the blanket, and covering my head with my arm. I want nothing more than to be with him...

The bathroom door opening doesn’t stir me. I don’t want to show my face. I want to hide, yet I’m too scared to lose him.

“Yona? Yona, why are you crying?!”

The concern in his voice make me sob harder. I feel the bed shift as he’s no doubt taken a place beside me. It makes me feel even worse to know I’d hurt him and yet he still cares too much to see me in pain. I don’t fight back as he gathers me into his lap. His warm body felt wonderful against my barely clothed skin, and his arms, so strong... I always feel safe within their confines.

“Please don’t cry Yona, you know I can’t take it when you cry.” He strokes along my back, soothing and gentle, with his voice soft near my ear. “I didn’t mean to hurt you, princess you know that’s the last thing I ever wanna do.”

“I‘m sorry,” I whimper through the tears. “But you really do love me, don’t you? Why’d I never realize this? I’m such an idiot.”

“No, you were right. I shouldn’t have teased you and just told you long ago,” he tips my chin up and softens his gaze, “how much you really mean to me.”

I reach up and cradle his cheek as he gently wipes away my drying tears. We gaze into each other’s eyes while time passes unnoticed. I have no idea for how long, but all I can think is how beautiful his eyes are... windows to the soul, and his is bared naked for me to see. I pull his head down and place a second kiss upon his lips. “And Hak, I’ve always loved you too. How could I not, even when you drive me crazy... in the end you’re the only one that’s ever made me feel happy.”

“It’s my body, right? You just love me because of my body.”

I smack his chest hard, “do you always have to ruin the moment and make a joke!”

As I move to hit him a second time, he grabs my wrist, laughing at my weak attempt. “I’m sorry, it’s just too easy to tease you. I’ll stop for now.” He kisses my fingers before releasing them. “I should get dressed.”

It was in that moment that I realize Hak only had a towel on leaving very little between us. My eyes widen, “o-oh!” One wrong move and the fabric would easily unravel.

“Are you gonna get off my lap?”

I take a deep breath, ready to make a move of my own. My eyes blink slowly, rising to meet his in a coy but stern flutter. “No.”

He chuckles, “no? Come on princess, let me get dressed.”

“Maybe... I’d rather you be undressed.”

Hak’s eyes shrink to pinpoints, with his mouth slightly agape in shock that I would say such a bravely seductive suggestion. I giggle, oh how quickly this bad boy crumbles. My hands weave around his neck, fingers ghosting along the skin.

This man has haunted my dreams and my loins for far too long, and now that I know he loves me, I’m not going to waste the opportunity. I shift my position to straddle his thighs comfortably, and lift my body pulling him to me, kissing, caressing, showing him, this was no fairy tale.

“Yona, wh-what are you doing?!”

“Showing you, I believe. Now shh...” placing a finger on his lips, “no talk, just drive.” I move his frozen hands from my waist to my ass where it’s bare warmth seems to revive them, for they squeeze gently and provide support. “Mmm,” I murmur against his lips; this was better than any dream.

“You’ll be the death of me my princess,” his lips press forward against mine. “But one I’ll gladly face.”

“Don’t worry Hak, we’ll slay the dragon together.”

He growls low, “careful. Do you have any idea how much I’ve pent up over the years?”

I narrow my gaze, “yes, I do.” Then unroll the portion of towel keeping it from unraveling in retort. “Now stop treating me like a kid.”

His blue eyes flashing wild are the last thing I register before finding myself flipped onto my back. I gasp, pinned below him, so small compared to his larger frame. He reaches behind my back and pulls the strings securing my bikini top free. I move to cover my chest on instinct, blushing fiercely from his lustful gaze.

“Now coy?” He teases lightly. So, I drop my hands slowly to the sides, baring myself to him. But I can’t bring myself to look him in the eyes just yet. “You know we can stop at any time, right? I won’t make you do anything you don’t want to.”

“No, no, I know... this is just new and a little scary.”

“Then allow me to make those fears melt away princess.”

I nod my head, “yes, please don’t stop Hak. I do want this too.”

My top is tossed to the side as he lowers himself further, kissing at the nape of my neck. His lips burn trails along my skin in a ring of fire, suckling, in pressured kisses. I want to tell him no hickeys please, but the words die away in my throat when I feel his hands begin to massage my breasts.

The temperature of the room rises along with my moans muffled to the roar in my eardrums. I hear little, but the rest of my senses are on overdrive. Every touch like electrical charges and the smell of sex quickly enveloping my nose. I can still taste a bit of sea salt from his lips.

“I still can’t believe it’s not a dream,” he mumbles against the swell of my breasts. Me neither, I purr back.

I gasp loudly and my body reacts when his mouth covets a nipple, arching and pressing into his oral kisses. He sucks and pulses against the sensitive button, teasing with both tongue and teeth in a twin assault, playing with one breast then switching to the other. His hands mold and caress, guiding my body where he wants it to go, while mine react based on his movements. They run through his hair or trail his back and neck. My fingers squeezing, nails digging into his flesh when he hits a sensitive area.

As he moves lower down my stomach, my breathing hitches. He’d left my breasts swollen and tender and now there’s a sinister glint in his eyes. He watches me watching him as he places the softest kisses in a trail.

Down he goes, yanking my bottoms off as his body slides off the end of bed. I squeak loudly as he yanks me to the edge of the bed but before I can grasp what he’s doing my legs are over his shoulders and his mouth clamps down on my sex. A gasping moan cuts through the air and my body freaks out with a jolt. “Hak!”

His hands grip my pelvis, keeping them in his clutches. I see the wide grin on his face as his tongue sweeps slow and steady from bottom to top parting my folds. When it comes center with my clit, he sucks hard and I see stars. My hands flail, grabbing and holding tight to the bedding around me. I bite my lip to stifle my moans but it’s a fruitless effort when he’s eating me out like a lollipop.

How is he so good at this?! Every pass of his tongue, swirling, sucking on my bud sends delicious shivers rolling through my body. I can’t think, I can’t see, my mind is consumed by his ministrations like a puppet on a string.

“Look at me Yona.” His deep voice commands and I do as if under a spell to follow his beck and call. My eyes gaze back, moist and glistened, half-lidded in the throes of lust. “Time for the next level,” he smirks.

Next level? What d... “Ha—kaaaa!” I cry out as his finger slips into my entrance. My thighs clench against his head, squeezing it like a cantaloupe. But he doesn’t stop there, sliding it in and out a couple times, then adding a second. His hand moves and holds me down by my stomach as my body begins to writhe.

His tongue continues to suck on my clit, but his fingers add to the heat roiling in my core like a rubber band being stretched to its breaking point. I’ve given myself little orgasms before but nothing like the explosion evident on the horizon. I can feel the friction they’re creating against my entrance. How the palm of his hand bumps when he pushes them as deep as they’ll reach.

His fingers scissor and curl in a come-hither motion pressing along the inside walls. I jolt and squeak when they hit upon a spot. I hear him chuckle. What the hell is he—oh, oh!!! “Hak—u!” The fiery friction his fingers create coupled with the sucking on my clit are too much, snapping the final coil. His garbled name sputters out in waves like the orgasm rocking my body, but he holds me down easily, relentlessly to make sure my orgasm has me seeing white.

It feels so good it hurts! “S-St-Stop—“ I push on his head as tears of joy cloud my vision. The area was on fire, sensitive to even the slightest touch.

Hak sits up on his knees licking off the clear juices coating his fingers with the biggest grin of accomplishment I’ve ever seen him sporting. “You’re so beautiful all flushed and out of breath.” His smile makes be blush again.

He crawls back on, helping me to scoot over to the center of the bed. I swallow hard when I see the size of his erection. Being a tiny girl with a big guy... you do the math. ‘Don’t freak yourself out now Yona,’ I calm my racing mind. Already my imagination is running wild at how it will finally feel to go all the way with Hak.

Seeing a worried tremble in my lip, Hak cradles me close against his body. He tips my chin, running his thumb against my cheek. “It’s up to you Yona if you want to continue. It was my pleasure simply satisfying you.”

“I’ve wanted this w-with you, to have you be the first Hak. I-I wanna make you feel good too. Please, let me?”

“Okay, whatever makes you happy.” He sits up with his legs bent at the knee and rotated to the sides. Then he pat his thighs. “I’ve heard this position is easier for the first time,” he explains, “you get to control things, especially in the beginning and stuff.”

I nod my head nervously. Hak doesn’t need to elaborate for I understand exactly what he’s talking about. Girls talk, and sometimes there’s pain if it’s too fast or rough. The fact Hak cared enough to know that relaxes me a little and makes me feel relieved.

He rolls on the condom I grab from his nightstand. “Just go-slow princess. There’s no need to rush. And you tell me if there’s something you want me to do.”

“Okay,” releases out in a long exhale. I position myself, saddling his lap and raised, poised over him. He holds his dick steady for me as I lower myself. A shiver ripples through my frame when it barely makes contact; my sex still swollen and tender to touch.

I nibble my lip and close my eyes, pushing myself onto him, gasping when the head pushes through. The instant heat also takes me by surprise. Guess all that blood flow served a second purpose. But it wasn’t just me who’d gasped. I look up and see Hak’s head tilted back slightly and his eyes closed. Even his fingers are curled against my hips. I press on, slowly sinking lower until it’s all the way inside. This wasn’t so bad after all. No, it felt freaking amazing! I bring his face back to focus and kiss his lips. “Are you okay Hak? You look shocked.”

He groans and presses deeper into the kiss. “If I’d known sex felt this good, I would’ve seduced you sooner.”

“This is your first time?!”

“Of course, it is!”

“But you seemed so skilled...” I blush, “you know earlier, I just assumed.”

“Jaeha’s been schooling me,” he blushes too. “I wanted to be ready if this ever happened. But don’t tell him I told you that!”

I giggle, “my lips are sealed, but...” I look down shyly, “I don’t know what to do next.”

“Oh!” He chuckles and starts directing my hips with his hands, “rock from you waist, use your thighs to help you. Just go by how it feels, and I’ll help you too.”

So that’s what I do. “Like this?” My hips start rocking forward and back. His hands drop down and cradle my ass and I feel them squeezing as he groans yes’s and his eyes roll back. It feels so good I join his moans. Wow it’s hard to focus at the same time!

His forehead falls onto my shoulder and his breathing grows haggard as I press longer, harder into my strides. I almost giggle out loud when my brain equates this to riding a stallion. Yup a stallion named Hak.

My breathing shortens as I pace myself. The heat building up in my core is aching again. This grind is causing a delectable friction that if I don’t slow down, I’ll lose myself too quickly.

“Fuck, Yona you feel so good,” he moans and kisses at the nape of my neck. “It’s settled, I’m marrying you and I won’t take no for an answer.”

I pull his face back up, “I accept,” kissing him on the lips. But as I hold the kiss, I lift my frame, sliding up his shaft and stopping when I feel the head pressured at the entrance. A muffled groan is trapped in his throat, redoubled when I slide down again. Oh, I like how this feels!

Over and over I do it, allowing the length to rub against the pressured walls, before pushing back down again. “Fuck,” he moans. “Yona, don’t stop, don’t... stop...”

As amazing as it feels my legs are growing tired. “I’m sorry,” I whimper, “ I can’t keep this up Hak.”

He lifts me up and rolls us over until I’m on my back and he’s nestled between my thighs. Then he maneuvers my legs over his hips, and I comply by hooking my ankles into his thighs. Hak starts pumping; I gasp and arch my back pressing my chest to his. Wow it’s deeper!

His head is rested on the bed next to mine as he uses his elbows to keep his weight off me. But his hands are glued to my pelvis and applying a downward force on them and his hips press upward.

“Hak,” I whine. He’s gonna make me cum a second time! His thrusts outpace my ability to keep up and I give in to the heat waves of my orgasm.

“Fuck,” he groans too as his breathing falters and voice grows strained.

Hak pumps his hips a few more times and I can feel a pulsing sensation inside coming from his dick that I assume is from an orgasm. Finally, after one last thrust, he buries himself to the hilt inside me and collapses in a panting mess.

After several minutes, he bundles me in his arms and rolls us to a side position while our breathing calms down. He kisses my forehead. “I love you so much Yona. That was more than I could have ever dreamed of.”

“Mmhmm,” I agree and nestle close to his warm chest. “I love you too Hak.”

“I meant what I said earlier, you know. I’m gonna marry you Yona.”

I lift my head and pull his lips against mine. “I believe you.”

#hakyona #akayona #Akatsuki no yona #hakyona fan fic #hakyona fanfiction #hak son #yona #son hak #hak #hakyona AU #hakyona smut #hakyona fan fiction #modern setting

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sinnabonka · 4 years ago

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Hey Hun! Lots of love to you. For starters I wanted to say that there should be no cell in your body blaming yself in any way. You and your blog were hope for so many people. You were the "you are not crazy" of the final weeks, and I'm forever grateful to you. Instead of dying of anxiety I managed to have a blast in this time of waiting, thanks to you. I passed my master thesis, because you gave me strength to see past the fear. I laughed in those weeks more than in last 5 years, and all of it because of the hope you gave me.

The rest of the msg is going to be pretty emotional rant about the awfulness of it all, and I know my opinion doesn't matter to anyone but I wanted someone important to me to hear my thoughts, if that's ok. It's also ok if you don't want to read it ofc. It's like my breakup letter to the show.

I hear many people cheering for the finale and i find it really hard to deal with. I always considered myself an open person who fights for healthy love as the only redeeming quality of the universe. I could see people's point of view, even if it didn't sit well with mine, and I would always try to hear them out respectfully until they weren't being respectful themselves. That said, I'm fully unable to understand cheering for this type of spiteful content and hearing those cheers makes me feel like the entire world is listening to "this is how you treat your fans, this is how to abuse your power over naive sheep, this is how to keep dumb, hopeful minorities in check" and taking notes.

It also upsets me that the people who gave this show all of themselves and tried to understand it to the core are given no resolution, are spitted on and buried under the rug for doing their best to appreciate the art and the story it was telling. Yet people, who just hang around and watch the show doing the dishes, with no consideration to it's story or characters, got as nonsensical ending as their whole idea of character development in SPN.

I know people say that it was good enough, because it leaves space for guessing and own interpretation, but I feel it's really undermining the extend to which the finale was awful and hurtful to the fans. There is no end that realistically could stop fanfic writers from finding way around it in the world of Supernatural, so saying it was thoughtful of them Is like excusing abusive partner because "they could hit me harder, but they didn't. That means they care"

Lose ends, characters being written in a way that is totally not true to them and their development (personally my biggest allegation), dismissing years of story development, proving that it was all 'queerbaiting' in big part in the end (hell, even the whole "Cas is in heaven so do with it what you will" is a shameful way of appalling to LGBTQ community after using them so hard.

In the pie scene, the roles should be swapped, it's Dean who should say that Cas is on his mind and Sam explaining him that it's only right to keep on living doing good in their name. That's what Dean told Sam at the beginning of the season, when Sam lost Rowena, so it would be at least a bit poetic. This would at least give us some truth from Dean for once, but he died how he lived, in shadow of his fear to be true towards his feelings and needs. And as he died, he bound his little brother to the hunting till the end of his days, by guilting him into it on his deathbed. Guess Dean took after his father.

Have you realised what that emotional "love speech" from Dean to Sam resulted in? It was writers taking back Cas' confession after they didn't need our viewership anymore.

They basically gave us love confession to get us to follow the finale and when they didn't need us anymore, not only they didn't commit to the confession, but they undermined it by having Dean's speech to Sam go the way it did with obviously higher emotional charge, successfully taking back the value of Cas' confession and making it about a bait for "Tumblr idiots"

Finale killed my feelings towards Destiel, not because it wasn't confirmed canon, but because from what I see in the episode, they canonically confirmed that

- for Dean, Cas was only means to an end, which is such an awful way of ending Cas' character arc. They gave him everything he was scared of and nothing close to consolation price and they dare to tell us he had a happy ending, "because they said so". Well, I didn't see him being happy, and knowing what i textually know i can empathise enough to say that he faced a miserable finish. Even Chuck got an end that was better than Cas' fate.

- Dean, given power to do anything he could dream of, chooses to not even greet Cas, after Cas gave his whole life to Dean, told him he loved him and died for him. I know some people consider the little smirk of Dean confirmation of his feelings, but let's be real for just a second. If someone you deeply loved for years confessed to you, told you they thought you don't love them back, you would be freaking running to see them and tell them how much you love them. That smirk to me reads as "I'm relieved to know you're not going to spend eternity in mega hell that i left you in" and we really need to stop giving credit to writers for scraps like this when it's the last episode ever and we know this isn't going anywhere.

Not to mention that by having Jack bring Cas back behind the scenes it just highlights the fact that Dean didn't ask him to do that in episode 19.

As result, I'm unable to look at any Destiel scene and not think "in here Cas already loved him and in here Dean already abuses the power he had over Cas, because of his one-sided love"

And yet, the episode and endgames for everyone (maybe not Sam, but he was seriously pinning for Dean his entire life. Wincest much?) managed to be so bad, that not even bringing Cas back or following up on Destiel would make a difference in my eyes. I know you believe that Destiel would save it, but for me as much as it would be a redeeming quality, it wouldn't be enough to save this awfulness that writer doomed characters with.

And all the Wincest scenes in the finale... I low key expected them to make out and it made me feel physically sick. Also, cutting Misha out because of coronavirus is a cheap excuse. We all know better than to believe that, so let's not fall for the self pity play from the abuser.

If you managed to stay with me till this point, thank you so much for hearing me out. I hope i didn't anger you with my monologue. I will always think of the lamp when i think of you. The reality is that you were the lamp for so many of us in this darkness.

Love you so much, wish all the best to you, take care of yourself and stay safe!

Oh my god, if I didn’t cry with the final, I definitely am crying now. And now I have to explain my partner why I’m staring at my laptop and sobbing ugly. What have you done?

First of all, I hear you pain, my friend! I share it! I didn’t spend a second after the final without the feeling of my heart being shuttered into million pieces, being stitched back just to break again, and so on and so on.

I had my first panic attack in two years yesterday, when I kept thinking about the message the show sent to the fandom via Dean’s fate. I have a few posts in my draft on the matter, but I am not sure I will ever share them, because it is one strong depresso, and I don’t think people following me should see how fucked up it really is (if they didn’t get it by themselves, of course).

I want to remind you, my gentle soul, that the story belongs to us. We know Dean, we know Cas, we know Sam and others. We know that the final is not who they are! I know it’s hard to ignore the text, the canon, because it’s kinda godsent, but the truth is essential. And the final is not the truth.

The truth:

Cas loves Dean, he sacrificed himself for him, he saved his life on multiple occasions, he told all those beautiful things and he meant every word.

Dean loves Cas, he was on his lowest every time he lost him, Cas was his “big win”, his best friend, his brother, his white light that lead him out of his anger, hatred and despair. He took a dog and called it Miracle, he was looking for a job to retire from hunting, he didn’t kill Chuck - all of that, because the sacrifice Cas made was not in vain! The message was clear.

I choose to ignore the “Carry on”, the only attention it is going to get is me creating 20 more mails just to put a one star review there and to drop some more salty or bitter comments with it. Maybe I will read through some reviews, too, add them to my collection.

Maybe I will one day write here an article from scriptwriting perspective how fucked up in was, because that’s what I can do about it, without throwing up.

If you can’t ignore it, I understand it. It is painful, it is disrespectful, I hate it as much as you do, probably.

If there’s anything I can do for you to feel better, just drop me a message, we can talk about it. I am on the lowest, too, but maybe we can help each other.

You say I was your lamp. Let me lead you our of the darkness one more time <3

CW can suck my metaphorical dick (I’m tagging every angry post with it), but Supernatural is not just the show on CW, it’s a big family.

And you can’t give up on it! You can’t give up on Dean and Cas, you can’t give up on Destiel! It’s so much bigger then the show itself.

Rediscover the show for yourself, remind yourself that Dean and Cas are real, it was never one sided, it was always something amazing.

What is real? We are.

Don’t you ever change.

I rather have you, cursed or not.

It’s love, hun, and love always wins.

#the15yearshow #spn #destiel #cw #can suck my metaphorical dick #sinnabonka answers

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adrischrv · 4 years ago

Text

REGNUM [L.H] - Chapter Two

Author´s Note: Here´s the next chapter of my King!Luke fanfic. English is not my first language so let me know if there are any mistakes.

Word count: 1,801

Warning: Accident.

Introduction.��Chapter One.

I had never seen the Irwin brothers in person. I could imagine them and quickly relate them to the cruelty of their father, Henry II. It was said that Maredale and Lauxwell were twin kingdoms because of their geographical location, but they were too different in their development. Lauxwell was a kingdom forged from cruelty, exploitation of its inhabitants, and the desire for destruction to achieve its construction. It was a rather chaotic kingdom and its leaders were not known to be friendly; but they were rich, a lot; more than Gardenstone and Maredale alone.

The coal-black hair of both stood out. Lauren's hair was long and matched her sensual silhouette, and on her left, Ashton was as strong and dominant as his features; but the real beauty in that man was his hazel eyes; and not to mention his green suit, both brothers were a magnificent sight.

“Pardon the interruption, your highnesses, your majesty-” Ashton spoke again, this time stepping forward. “My sister and I believe that a dance is necessary to introduce us to the new face.”

Ashton approached me in a bow that I reciprocated, took my hand and kissed it, pausing at my knuckles carefully to add: "What a crime it would be to lose sight of your beauty."

I couldn't help but blush, but with my future father-in-law and brother-in-law's eyes on me, I had to try.

I withdrew my hand with a little shame and it took me two seconds to remember my name.

“No problem, your…”

“...Majesty. Surely you know of my father's recent death. My sister Lauren and I rule Lauxwell now," Ashton completed, looking at Luke and the King sideways. “We still don't know who it was, but I can assure you that the guilty party will pay for it.“

As Ashton stood next to her sister again, King Robert indicated something to Luke with a serious face. The prince took his companion aside and spoke aloud.

“Are you insinuating something, your majesty? I recommend you to be clever and do it with a weapon at hand... “ With a sign, the guards handed him two swords. “It is cowardly to throw the stone and hide the hand.”

Luke began to roll up his sleeves, watching Ashton with an arrogant smile. Lauren's gaze met mine, indicating that she was afraid. Not for Ashton, for Luke.

Ashton laughed, grabbing a sword and admiring its edge.

Contrary to what I thought, Queen Susan and my mother took their seats without commenting on the duel that was about to begin. King Robert made eye contact with Prince Jake in the distance, but he did nothing to stop his son.

The people around us fixed their attention on that pair by opening up space, the violinists stopped and the bets disguised as whispers increased as did the tension.

“If I win," Luke spoke, "you will both leave the Gardenstone and never set foot here again for the rest of your lives.”

I waited for King Robert to interrupt him and contradict him, the prince couldn't do that. His Majesty did not flinch at all.

“If I win," Ashton followed him into position, "we have unlimited entry and stay at Gardenstone. Also, I would like to have the pleasure of dancing with Princess Amberly, if she agrees.”

My mother smiled approvingly, enjoying the show in which my company was a bet.

“All right," I replied to both of them. “I will add a condition since I have been put in this medieval act. At the first drop of blood, both of you must stop.”

They nodded, anxious to be able to throw themselves at each other. Luke imitated the position that Ashton had taken and once King Robert indicated it, the clash of swords began.

It was sad to admit, but I didn't know much about dueling. It had been centuries since it was practiced as a sport so I couldn't tell who was winning, but even someone like me with little knowledge in the art of dueling could notice the grace with which Ashton held on after each thrust and although Prince Luke didn't match him, he put his strategy into practice to try and avoid it.

Luke's sword grazed Ashton's side, tearing his green pants, without a drop of blood outside. Lauren moved over to my side, in comparison to me she didn't look at them in horror, it was fun for her to watch the duel.

“Your Highness, this is not the right time, but we wanted to give you this humble detail in the name of Lauxwell," she said, offering a necklace with an emerald hanging from it.

I took it and admired both the luster and the price. In Maredale it would cost a fortune to wear something like this.

“Thank you very much, Your Majesty," I smiled. “It is beautiful.”

Lauren smiled back. A roar followed by applause turned our attention to that pair.

Ashton had left his sword on the floor. He was sweating a bit and his hair was out of place. Luke was lying next to the sword with just a drop of blood running down his throat. The black-haired man offered him a hand but he refused, choosing to stand up with effort.

“You've gotten better, Luke," Ashton said, wiping herself with a cloth to make her look just as flawless as before. “Just... not good enough.”

The crowd resumed the event as soon as the violins started the next song, and just as he'd said, King Ashton offered his arm, gently leading me to the floor.

“Your Highness, how do you feel at Gardenstone?” He asked, swaying me to the music as if it were the easiest thing in the world.

“Comfortable," I replied, raising my hands with his following the dance. “I am afraid I haven't seen anything else than my room since I arrived.”

“Why not?” He asked.

We followed the couples who jumped and clapped before returning to the conversation.

“I can't, my wedding is... let's say it's coming up.”

“Can I call you Amberly?” He asked behind me following the dance, I nodded. “The truth is, Amberly, you should be exploring your future kingdom. You should be able to choose what your future kingdom will be. I should be in mine, waiting for you to arrive to consider my alliance and fulfill my destiny without the need to take up arms; but I don't. Do you have any idea why this is not so?”

I denied with my head, I had some ideas in my mind but his narration was entertaining and his eyes shone perfectly with the light of the chandelier bursting in his face.

“Because we have new opportunities, we create them," he replied. “I firmly believe that everything happens for a reason, there is always a reason.”

He was right, maybe I shouldn't have let my mother choose my alliance, maybe the alliance with Gardenstone didn't have to happen. Between three realms the possibilities were almost endless.

“The horrible things that people say happen in my kingdom, every single one of them... are true, I'm afraid," Ashton continued. “My father, my grandfather... my blood has taken care of it, but I'm different, I have to be.”

It was a very heavy promise to remove slavery and exploitation from a territory as vast as Lauxwell. Understanding how unrealistic it sounded to me, Ashton approached my ear and added:

“Fate has no power in the now, we do.”

Applause filled the room again as the song ended, and amidst the reverence, Luke was present again.

“I'll have to steal the princess for the next piece," he announced, taking my hands in his to push Ashton away.

“That's not…”

“I wasn't on the deal, it's my turn to dance with her," Luke interrupted, silencing any protest.

Unable to afford to be rude, I placed my hands around his neck and he grabbed me by the waist. A slow piece began to play.

“You're very tense, your highness," I mentioned in an attempt to begin a conversation with him.

“Good point, I certainly am. Although it's not of your interest," Luke noted the rudeness of her tone and added, "Princess.”

He made me blink a couple of times, it didn't make sense to ask for a dance with me and then behave so... rude.

“I'm sorry, did I do something wrong? Did I offend you in any way?” I asked in a different, more serious tone. “Because, as far as I remember, you didn't have time to be offended if you didn't deign to come to my welcome yesterday, prince.”

Luke focused on me, his jaw tightened for a few seconds and his hands clenched my waist slightly. Right at his royal pride.

“Do you think you're smart, Amberly? Do you think my brother likes that?” Luke asked, clearly going past the formalities. “Because if you think so, you are wrong and very much so. My brother doesn't need someone like you, my father raised him to run the kingdom on his own. You will only get in the way. And if that's not enough, I don't like you. I never will.”

I stopped dancing, standing up straight and with a threatening look (my favorite) I responded.

“I was also raised to run a kingdom on my own, and yet here I am, wasting my time with a complete brat. I ask you, your highness, to rethink who is in the way here.”

Luke, with surely a lousy counterattack in mind, was interrupted by shouts from all over the great hall.

The chandelier had fallen in the center, causing everything around it to catch fire. People began to run desperately in search of a way out, the guards helped guide them all to the southern garden through large doors.

“Princess Amberly, Prince Luke, run!” Calum took us both running for the exit.

“Where is the king?!” I shouted to be heard amidst all the noise.

A couple of guards led us to the side of the garden where the people of the palace and the town were splitting up to find the people they were looking for. Panic overcame me when I saw so many people scared.

Three guards surrounded us, a little further away from us was Lidia with several sobbing girls, even the blonde that Luke had brought with her, but there was no sign of the king or queen, let alone Jake.

“And the king? Calum, tell me you saw him, where is he?” Luke asked for answers.

A man who looked like Calum walked quickly towards us, the guards followed him with briefcases in hand. One seemed to take out a Bible and once in front of Luke, the man spoke.

“He's here. It's you, you are the new king.”

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penzyroamin · 4 years ago

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Hi I know it’s been a bit but I’m the confused bi anon. I really really appreciated your response and it wasn’t too long. You made me feel a lot better. I was wondering if you could maybe suggest some books, tv, movies with bi female characters. Thanks soo much for the entire last response . You are absolutely incredible and so sweet. This means more to me than you could ever know❤️

of course!! i’m glad that my first response helped <3

disclaimer of course: i’m not bi! so i’m not an Authoritative Source on bi rep and what people want to see more of. i do actively seek out stuff about lgbtq+ characters, specifically girls and women, so i have some recs! however, i’ll also be adding some things that some bi folks i know have recommended because while lesbians and bi women have a lot in common, these are at the end of the day representing them, not me :)

extra-super favorites will be bolded! i’m putting this under a read more because... i read a lot of books. and recommended a lot of them.

books:

her royal highness by rachel hawkins-- this book is a pretty easy read-- don’t expect any massive revelations about life from it, and you’ll have a good time!!! essentially, a bi texan girl named millie, after having her heart broken by her friend-turned-sort-of-gf, goes to boarding school in scotland and ends up rooming with the princess, flora. if this sounds outrageous and sappy, that’s because it is! and i love it! sexuality isn’t a BIG part of this book, but it’s discussed, and it’s just a generally fun enemies-to-lovers story about a bi aspiring geologist and a no-fucks-to-give lesbian princess and them falling in love!

fried green tomatoes at the whistle stop cafe by fannie flagg-- hello this is actually my favorite book! unlike hrh it is... a LOT to read. it essentially follows 2 stories-- one about a housewife named evelyn and her friendship with an old woman named ninny threadgoode who she meets at the old folks home her mother-in-law stays at, and the other about the stories ninny tells her about her sister-in-law idgie and her partner, ruth. the book was published in 1987, and ruth and idgie’s story is set during the great depression, so they aren’t actively labeled as lesbian or bi, but it’s made obvious enough through coding and the fact that ruth has relationships with men prior to idgie while idgie spends her entire childhood pining after ruth. both storylines are fantastic-- they have a lot to say about the lives of southern women in the 30s and 80s, and about race relations at both periods. i’ll warn you that there are depictions of extreme racism and of abuse, but it handles both delicately. it’s a critical piece of southern literature, and a landmark for lgbtq+ storytelling. as a bonus, my copy has a bunch of great recipes in the back, so if you read it you might chance upon an edition with those in it. if you like poignant period pieces about wlw relationships, women losing their damn minds, and abusive men getting what they deserve, this is the book for you! you will sob. this is a fair warning.

you should see me in a crown by leah johnson-- i haven’t personally read this one, but i’ve heard great things about it from everyone i know who has! an anxious black bi girl in indiana has to win prom queen at her mostly-white school in order to get enough scholarship money to go to the college of her dreams, but ends up falling for mack, another girl running for queen.

@landlessbud wanted me to shout out red, white, and royal blue by casey mcquinston-- you’ve almost definitely heard about it before (first son and prince of wales, enemies-to-lovers with a side dish of political drama), and it is primarily about a mlm romance, but nora is a fabulously fun bi girl side character and there’s a lot of great stuff about figuring out your sexuality in it.

leah on the offbeat by becky albertalli-- i’ve read a lot of complex thoughts on this book, and mine are... i like it! it’s flawed, sure, and i wish it had handled a few things a little better, but you know what? it’s cute as fuck! leah is a fat bi drummer, and she’s super cool! abby is a great love interest, and she goes through a whole bi realization throughout the book. all in all, it’s just a fun wlw high school romcom with a couple solid dramatic beats and a lot of goofball shenanigans. also, if you were an american girl kid??? one scene in this book will make the entire experience worth it for you.

harley quinn: breaking glass by mariko tamaki and steve pugh-- hey, we’re in graphic novel territory now! this book is RAD. a really neat look at gentrification, community solidarity, giving people what they deserve, and fantastic lgbtq+ found families. teenage harleen quinzel is taken in by a group of drag queens, and is caught between two sort-of love interests-- mysterious vigilante the joker and classmate and community activist ivy-- and the different forms of protest and resistance they represent. the art here is STUNNING, and it’s a great read!

laura dean keeps breaking up with me, by the great mariko tamaki with art by rosemary valero-o’connell-- the vast majority of the characters are lgbt, with a lesbian main character, and the supporting cast including a bi nonbinary character, a bi girl character, and two mlm characters! this is mostly a piece about modern lgbtq+ teenagers and the way toxic relationships take over our lives. it’s one of the most cathartic things i’ve read in a LONG time, and especially if you’re at a point where your sexuality feels kind of vague, this is a great read because it embraces that vagueness by not needing to clearly label the characters and celebrates whatever point of clarity the characters are at. probably some of the most gorgeous art i’ve ever seen in a book, with a beautiful black-white-and-pink color scheme and a really neat approach to visual storytelling.

movies:

i don’t watch many movies, because i get bored really quickly hskdhskhds. but the movies i DO watch are usually gay!

wowie zowie its fried green tomatoes again!-- fannie flagg came back to adapt this into a film and HOT DAMN is it just as good. the plot is primarily the same, with some stuff obviously cut or trimmed to make it a two hour movie instead of a 450 page books fhsjdhsjhds. mary-louise parker plays ruth!!! it got a GLAAD award and an oscar nomination, and god it’s good. there are a couple scenes in here that i think are going to be in my mind until the day i die. the level of pure butch energy that idgie radiates in this film is a one-hit k.o. and it KILLS me.

birds of prey-- listen. this is not a profound movie. harley’s bisexuality isn’t emphasized, and romance is basically nonexistent in this movie. there is some... quite graphic violence. that said, this movie is so fucking fun. it’s mostly just a bunch of women fucking up everyone who crosses them while margot robbie gives a gleeful performance that you can just TELL she enjoyed the fuck out of. the last 20-30 minutes of this movie are the absolute best part, with a long sequence that kind of reinvented what an action/superhero movie could be for me. again, bisexuality isn’t a massive part of this-- it’s mentioned, and then harley just continues on in her gloriously campy outfits and breaks peoples’ knees. again, i CANNOT overemphasize just how fucking good the last 20-30 minutes are. this movie knows what it is and it embraces it. also, women beating people up in costumes that don’t horrifyingly objectify them is always a plus!

imagine me & you-- i’d be remiss if i didn’t mention this one, considering it’s probably one of the most iconic wlw romcoms. a woman named rachel, while at her own wedding, meets a florist named luce, and they fall in love. it’s a very sweet look at questioning your sexuality when you were already secure in it, and rachel’s husband wins “most genuinely understanding guy in a wlw movie” award. it has a lovely happy ending, and articles have been written about the importance of rachel being a bi character who a) gets a happy ending and b) isn’t shamed for figuring out her sexuality later on or slutshamed. this is just... a sweet movie. it’s the romcom a lot of us need in our lives. also, a LOT of floral imagery.

tv shows:

ok, i’ve got a confession. i reaaaaaaally don’t watch much tv. seriously, the only shows i’ve watched a substantial amount of recently have been parks and rec, schitt’s creek, the good place, and gilmore girls. i have a really REALLY short attention span.

that said, eleanor from the good place is bisexual!! the good place is a really wild ride, it’s half afterlife comedy half philosophical musing, and it will almost certainly make you gasp, laugh, think, and also probably cry. also, eleanor is just buckets of fun and she, like many of us, is often blown away by tahani (jameela jamil) and her beauty.

ummm shows i haven’t watched entirely or at all but that have bi women in them and seem pretty good: black lightning, sex education, jane the virgin, arrow.

if you haven’t already watched it, do not believe what people are going to tell you about watching glee. it will drag you into a pit of despair and white men rapping, and it’s quite biphobic to top it all off.

i hope you enjoy at least some of these!! i tried to include some of my own favs and some that were pointed out to me, so i hope that at least a couple connect with you and make you feel better. again, the bolded ones are my 100% favorites. i love you and i’m glad you reached out again!!! feel free to send some more asks later on <3

#asks #anon #bi anon #ily <3 <3 i hope these help #if anyone wants to add please do!! specifically bi women of color since theres a shortage of them in fiction and media #dont talk abt b/9/9 though id like to not praise diversity in a show glorifying cops

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little-lily-w · 5 years ago

Text

Decision made

A/N: last smutty chapter posted on Breaking Purity

Words: 2 k

Warnings: dub-con, locked up, fingering, oral sex (female recieving), overstimulation, spanking

-Come on, Michael, you don´t think I´m gonna believe you, right?

-What do you mean?

-Like we are locked and that you can´t open the door. Please, you´re just trying to make me nervous – you give him a little push to move him out of your way and you grab the latch, pulling it but realizing that the door is indeed locked.

-You´re gonna hurt yourself, come back here – he warns as you continue hitting the latch frenetically till your fingers slip off and end up crashing against it. You cry out and go backwards bringing your painful fingers to your mouth till you reach Michael´s torso. He turns you around and grabs your hand – I told you that you were going to hurt yourself – he caresses your knuckles and after a slight burn your fingers are okay again – You believe me now, don´t you? – he asks cheekily and you try to dodge him walking slowly away but your back now ends against the wall. Fuck – Are you trying to avoid me?

-No – you fake a chuckle.

-Then why do you think I want to make you nervous?

-I don´t know. To hear something you want to hear – he gets closer and your breathing gets agitated at his proximity.

-And that would be…? – he puts his right palm on the wall to your side and you´re entirely trapped.

-Michael… please… - you gasp, your belly heat rising up.

-Please what? You wanted a choice? – he says gently but steady – Go ahead, slip away under my arm. Slip away and I promise you I won´t ever touch again. I won´t talk to you or bother you anymore. I´ll surrender and leave you in peace with your soul. For fuck´s sake I will even get you another room for you so you won´t have to see me. Slip away and when we get out, it´s all over. But if you stay here, I´ll kiss the shit out of you and you know you are under my rules as entirely mine.

You sob a little at his words because you know that maybe he is giving you the chance of your life but at the same time you´re not capable of moving away. Everything in him, everything, makes you feel so alive, makes your blood explode directly from your heart reaching every cell with grace and vigor, makes your feet rise up from the floor as he gets you between tears and moans but still not letting you fall. And now you are there looking at his eyes, his insanely light blue eyes that have you flying once more, lost in his gaze and in the warmth his body emanates, somehow covering you, protecting you, destroying you in a billon pieces and rebuilding you into a magnificent piece of art, and your brain seems for the first time connected with your heart, with your entire being so much that you sigh, relived, knowing that you don´t have to fight anymore

– Decision made – he says and grabs your jaw ever so gentle that all your body tingles as he kisses you deep and yearning, making you desire him as much as he craves you. Your mouth hold onto his, sucking his bottom lip as you leave all shame behind and your hands go for his hair, sinking into its softness. His heart is beating so fast that he sticks you to him while his tongue caresses yours, and then he continues his way to your jaw line, nibbling slightly the skin under your bone and brushing his lips below it, right in your neck, making you lust for it as you let out a begging moan – You know how to ask nicely – he says and keeps rubbing his lips against your skin.

-Please, Sir, please kiss my neck – you gasp.

-No – he says and stops abruptly all action leaving you like a wrecked panting mess – Take off your nightgown – shame is coming back to you but you´re still immersed in that desire state so much that you do it and let it fall on the floor as you lay your head down. Despite that, he tilts your chin up to meet your gaze and red cheeks – Eyes on me, don´t you forget that. There´s nothing to be ashamed of. You´ll undress for me whenever and wherever I request it and I want you to feel graced for it as well as proud for this beautiful body you have.

-Yes, Sir – you sigh to compose yourself as he caresses your shoulder down to the side of your torso.

-How can I resist you when you are so good? – he grabs your jaw again to lift your head and then sinks his mouth in your neck with a passionate wet kiss that makes your legs rub together. You whimper at each suction he does, till the feeling of his teeth giving you a little pain makes your moans so loud that his animalistic instincts react and he grabs you by the throat squeezing just to see how your eyes get teary and, more delightful, how you let him do – Sit down and spread your legs – he orders roughly in your ears. You don´t think much and obey, your breathing getting really loud. You are seated on the down toilet cover lid and he kneels before you, grabbing both of your legs and pulling them towards him so that you have to lie back with your nape resting against the wall and holding yourself with your forearms on the lid. Your vulnerability burns in every one of your pours as he has you trapped by your legs, not letting you move or oppose resistance in that position. He nibbles your inner thigh and you try uselessly to bend your legs together.

-Sir… - you hesitate.

-Quiet, babygirl – he says slapping you there before he resumes the nibbling. You cry out and he moves closer to your pussy suctioning every centimeter of your skin on his way – My baby was so good with her study – he licks your labia majora and you shiver at the sensation. When he does it again, you make fists, burying your nails on your own palms to keep you silent but you can´t help yourself.

-Please, Sir… - he slaps you hard again and his fingers mark appears quickly in your inner thigh, red and shining.

-Baby, you really need to control that pretty mouth or I can easily turn this into a whole other punishment.

You inhale deep and shaking and when he slides his wet tongue along your slit you let out a high pitched moan. But he doesn´t let you recover since he sinks his whole mouth into your pussy and sucks it with greed, delighting himself in the taste of your juices and the sound of your whiny cries of pleasure. His hands reach your waist and hold you firmly as the heat of his fingers and the vertical licks in your clit have you curling your toes. He stops for a second and you whine in protest, fire shining of your eyes

– My little girl is so needy. But don’t worry, I´m not finished with you – he releases his left hand from your waist and inserts two fingers in your pussy earning a loud gasp from you. His mouth goes for your clit again as he pumps in and out of your entrance, making your sex sound at the sloppiness and your cheeks burn at what your hear.

-Oh my god… please Sir! – you cry out in pleasure and embarrassment, feeling your wetness escape from you, coming down to his tongue and your ass cheeks. He takes his mouth off and slaps both your inner thighs hard, then resumes his action but more aggressively, shoving his fingers into you fast and sucking your clit with his tongue in a vehement way. You can´t hold it anymore and your belly contracts as you explode in an orgasm that sends you into violent spasms, creaming all over his tongue.

-You taste like an angel – he says as he watches you convulse –But you should know by now, I´m no god to be merciful to that kind of creature – He grabs you by the hair a bit roughly and forces you to get on your weak feet. He moves you to the sink, making your palms rest on it as he stands behind you – Look in the mirror – he speaks in your ear and you obey, your tired face and his blonde hair over your shoulders showing up – You are mine and every time I ask you who you belong to, I want you to look into your eyes when you answer me – He gives a tingly scratch from your thigh to your butt but he is quick to push his fingers into you again. You hold on the sink tighter as he starts pumping into you like he doesn´t care about how sensitive you are after that skyrocket orgasm.

-Sir, please, it´s too much – you plead squirming before he smacks your ass making you contract your muscles and your walls ache at how you grip him in consequence.

-I know. And that´s what I want you to look at. How beautifully helpless you become under my control –you start sobbing as he keeps pushing his fingers in and out of you, your insides so wet for having cum like you did that he can move them easily at whatever pace he wants to – Who do you belong to? – you look into the mirror and see the sweat in your forehead, your lips parted open to gasp for air as he keeps thrusting into you, and you are not able to cope with it.

-I´m yours, Michael – you whisper, shy.

-Seems like my baby needs some motivation to speak loud and clear – he smacks your ass two more times and you cry out as he starts ravaging your pussy – Let´s try again. Who do you belong to?

-I´M YOURS, MICHAEL! – you scream, your knuckles white at the pressure you´re doing onto the sink. He bites the flesh of your neck and you growl, watching your teary lustful eyes in the reflection.

-I love hearing that, my angel – his other hand goes for your clit and circles it earning more screams at the raw skin.

-Please Michael, please, I´m too sensitive! – you beg, feeling the burning sensation at your over stimulated sex. Despite that, his fingers twisting inside you and the attack on your clit make a wave of pleasure expand in your stomach, ready to collapse again. He smacks your ass again and resumes his merciless masturbation on your clit, not giving you enough time to breathe.

-You´re gonna shut the fuck up and cum again in my fingers like a good little girl – you growl desperate, his words making you hallucinate – Who do you belong to? – he asks and literally pounds your hole while rubbing your clit fast and hard.

-I´M YOURS SIR, I´M ALL YOURS – you yell looking at your messed up face while cumming agonizingly soaked in his fingers. He holds his hands still for a few seconds watching you balance dizzy, back and forwards. Once he gets them away from your sex, he surrounds your waist and sits on the floor, against the wall, accommodating you on his lap. While you rest on his shoulder, he kisses your forehead and caresses the left side of your torso.

-You were so precious baby – you want to talk back but your loud breathing makes it difficult – Shh. Keep that bratty mouth quiet, you need to recover energy.

He gives your lips a soft kiss and spends around five or ten minutes with you in that position, both of you coming down to earth, the low sounds of heartbeats soothing each other.

Suddenly, you hear an unlocking sound and the door opens.

#michael langdon smut #michael langdon x reader #michael langdon x you #michael langdon fanfiction #breaking purity

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sebthesnipe · 5 years ago

Text

Keep Breathin’

February Prompts 2/29

Prompt List

First // Previous // Next chapter of My Dearest Procyon

The February Collection on AO3

My Dearest Procyon

Other works by me

Prompt: Little / Large

Ship: Prinxiety and Logicality

Original story based on this wonderful post by @underdog-arts

WARNING: Mentions of blood and violence

Roman’s dreams began as they usually did now. His dreams of heroics and praise were a thing of the past. The only thing left in these endless dreamscapes was pain and torment. He couldn’t help but feel he had earned this torment. He deserved this pain.

There was the constant shifting of settings and faces, loved ones, strangers, citizens and nobles. It was disorientating. Among the ruins of the burned structures and charred bodies, a man, not much younger than the prince, but far more beautiful could be seen. The glimpses of the man were no more than a silhouette against the orange and red flames, far in the distance. Roman couldn’t be sure if he was an angel, come to deliver him, or a demon, here to drag him to the deepest pits of Hell. The one thing Roman was sure of was that he was the most stunning creature he had ever seen.

Roman watched silently, his shoulders growing heavy with the weight of his guilt as he did nothing. Another citizen collapsed next to him, chest slashed open by an unseen forsalent. Roman’s gaze followed the individual as they hit the pavement next to him, purple hood still pulled over their face. They were dead. They had to be, everyone else around him was dead.

Roman couldn’t move, unable to look away from the body next to him. There was something so familiar about their form. Did he know them? Had they been friends? He wouldn’t know until he could see their face. He needed to see their face.

The weight on his shoulders grew, forcing him to take a knee or be crushed by its burden. He was closer to the corpse now. He could smell the stench of burned flesh as the flames around them drew closer, licking at their body hungrily. He needed to know; needed to see their face. He had to make sure it was him! He wasn’t even sure who ‘him’ was, but he was important, perhaps the most important individual Roman had ever known… had he known him? Was it even a him?

The prince reached out a hand, shaking slightly with the fear that spurred him onward. What if it was him? What if he really was dead? It was all Roman’s fault! Still, he needed to know if there was no hope.

His fingers brushed against the now red fabric of the hood, fisting the cloth desperately. Terror inched further up his spine as he hesitated. He didn’t want to know. He was better off not discovering the truth. How could he help otherwise? He was doomed to be useless for the rest of his days if he didn’t know who this man was.

He ripped back the hood in one quick moment. A large monstrous beast lunged at him from beneath the cowl, its jowls foaming as it opened wide to try and devour Roman in a single bound. Its black and white fur fell from its large body in bloody clumps, sizzling from the fire around them. Roman gave a cry raising his arms to cover his face in defense as the creature attacked.

He waited for the pain, eyes squeezed shut, body shivering in his petrified state.

“Roman,” a soft angelic voice came. The sound was so startling in contrast to his surroundings that the prince couldn’t help but give a startled jerk in surprise.

“Roman,” the soft voice came once more, a bit more soothing. Below him, the cowering man, curled closer around himself, too afraid to open his eyes for fear of what new horrors his dreams would provide for him. “It’s me, Roman. You can look. I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”

Virgil didn’t know what he was talking about. How could he? This was Roman’s dream, he knew what his own mind was capable of. The horrors it could- Wait…. Virgil? The prince jerked his head up, eyes wide in surprise and desperation as they settled on the other man’s form.

The ashen village Roman had been standing in only a moment ago was nowhere to be seen. The scent of burning flesh accompanied by the sound of tormented screams was gone. In its place spanned a large vast blanket of whiteness; a blank canvas to be painted however he saw fit. Before him, stood Virgil, his savior.

The witch towered over Roman’s cowering form, his usually oversized travel worn clothes replaced with form fitting trousers and a black and purple tunic, framed with a matching cloak. His brows were furrowed in concern, purple gaze boring into the prince as he offered a hand.

“V-Virgil…” Roman stuttered, the name spoken in such a soft whisper it sounded as if it were a prayer.

Virgil’s heart seemed to break at the sound, a crack no doubt splitting its beating surface. Roman scrambled towards the man, ignoring the offered help up to wrap an arm around the witch’s waist, his other hand lifting to fist into his savior’s tunic. The prince buried his face in Virgil’s stomach.

“Virgil, I’m so sorry!” He cried, tears already beginning to soak through the fabric. Virgil’s heart shattered further. “I’m so so sorry! I should have protected you! I should have been able to save you!”

Virgil tensed at the embrace, not sure what to do with the reaction. Slowly he lowered his hands to rest on the prince’s shoulders almost as if he were trying to comfort him. It was good to see that his mind was processing enough to know who he was and what had happened. Most people didn’t have the coherency as Roman did in his dream.

“Roman,” Virgil sighed softly, “Roman it's alright. I’m fine,” he reassured but Roman only clung more tightly to the witch, sobbing softly. The prince didn’t seem to listen.

Virgil gave another huff before wrestling out of Roman’s grip and dropping to his knees in front of the prince. Roman didn’t hesitate to pull him against his chest as soon as he was close enough to do so, yanking him hard enough against his chest to cause Virgil to give a pained grunt. The prince was certainly as strong as he looked.

“Roman,” Virgil managed in a pained gasp, “Roman I can’t breathe.”

“Oh,” the prince gasped, lightening his embrace just enough to allow the witch’s chest to expand but not nearly enough to allow him to escape. Virgil would never admit it, but he didn’t mind. Roman gave the best hugs.

Hesitantly, the witch lifted his arms to wrap around the larger man in return, feeling the way the force of his tears was causing his entire body to shake. Virgil hadn’t realized how much he had cared. He should have known though. The prince, despite his pompous tendencies, had such a big heart. Virgil didn’t think it mattered who it was that had gotten hurt, Roman would have been upset regardless.

“I thought I had lost you,” Roman mumbled into the crook of Virgil’s neck, voice hitching. “I thought you were gone!”

“Come on, Princey, like I would let myself die by some rando on the street. Nah, it’s going to take a lot more than that to put this badger out of his memory,” he teased using, earning a snort of amusement in return. “Seriously, I’m fine.”

Roman took a moment to gather himself before he finally pulled back, taking in Virgil’s face. He looked healthy enough, his skin no paler than usual, features worried but healthy, his eyes…

“Your eyes…” Roman breathed, dumbfounded, “Both of them…?”

“Oh…” Virgil blinked before averting his gaze in shame and embarrassment. “Yeah, I don’t have one of Logan’s when I enter dreams. They’re just mine,” he shrugged.

“They’re more beautiful than I had imagined,” Roman sighed, lifting a hand to the witch’s chin to cause him to look at him. “They suit you perfectly.”

It was Virgil’s turn to have his breath hitch. No one had ever used those words to describe him or his eyes. The violet color was unnatural and off putting. It scared people to no end. He was a freak! That was all he would ever be. Roman was no doubt just being chivalrous.

"You are the most beautiful creature I have ever laid eyes on," The prince added, making Virgil question his own logic.

"Roman, don't say anything you'll regret," Virgil warned before Roman could dig this hole any deeper. "Your dream might not be real, but I am. We’ll both remember this when we wake up."

"Good," The larger man replied without hesitation making Virgil tense. "I have been thinking about all the things I would say to you if you woke for days now. I will not waste another moment if I can avoid it."

"Roman don't. I refuse to be something you regr-"

"No," Roman interrupted flatly, hands moving to grip one of Virgil's between them. "I will regret not telling you this right here, right now. No Logan, no Patton; just you and me. Just… Just let me explain, please," Roman pleaded giving Virgil the look.

They hadn't known each other long but Virgil was very familiar with the look.He had those big hazel eyes and that puckered lip. Ugh,Virgil was weak to it! He couldn’t help but give a small nod.

"Thank you," Roman sighed in relief. "I have lost so much in the last few weeks. In fact, I've lost everything," he clarified, glancing away briefly as he tried to gather himself before continuing. "I didn't know what to do. I had so much pain and suffering. Then you just showed up out of nowhere, like an angel. You are so clever and deep and intimidating and charming and fierce," he chuckled wetly, the tears starting once more. "For the brief time that I have known you, you became the only thing in my life that made it worth living. I have nothing else. You made me want to fight. You made me want to live when nothing else could. Because if there was something as strong and beautiful as you in this world then it would be worth it."

Virgil wasn't sure how he felt about everything. He didn't like that Romam was making a confession he knew the prince would regret. He didn't like that he didn't know if Roman was trying to trick or lie to him somehow. He didn't like that he hoped he wasn't as his own face heated uncontrollably. He did like Roman.

"You are the most incredible person I have ever met," the prince continued. "In my short time next to you, I have grown to care for you so much that if I lost you, I don't know how I could possibly manage without you and now…. Now you're…" He stuttered, hiccuping at the reminder of his failure.

"Roman, I'm going to be fine." Virgil huffed, growing annoyed at having to repeat himself along with the emotions Roman was drawing out of the witch.

"Virgil, I don't think I can do this without you," Roman continued ignoring the man's words, lifting his hands to cup Virgil's cheeks. "When you got hurt, I couldn't… I didn't…"

"Roman," Virgil whispered, hands covering the larger man's. "I'm alright. I'm going to be alright. Logan is fixing me up. He's exhausting our magic to the point I have to stay asleep until I'm fully healed to keep the flow strong. You can't keep doing this to yourself," Virgil squeezed his hands gently offering a reassuring smile. The sight had an astonishing amount of anxiety falling from Roman's shoulders. "You need to eat and rest. Neglecting yourself isn't going to make me heal faster," he pointed out. "You have got to stop. I need you too, the you that's not completely useless."

Roman cracked the first smile he had in days, easing Virgil's concern slightly. "I can do that," the prince reassured. Virgil returned the grin meeting his soft eyes with his own shifting purples.

"Yeah?" the witch asked.

"Yeah," Roman replied, gaze lowering slightly to take in the soft curve of Virgil's lips. He suddenly became acutely aware of just how amazing Virgil felt pressed flush against his chest.

Virgil's anxiety skyrocketed at the look Roman was giving him. He could feel his heart pounding almost painfully against his ribs as he waited to see what the prince would-

"Roman," Logan's calm voice came, far too loud in Roman's ear as he jerked awake. "You need to eat before we move on."

Roman blinked in surprise as he tried to adjust to the bright sunlight. He slowly took in the sight of the tall cloaked witch bending low to offer him a bowl of what he could only assume was some kind of stew.

Panic filled him briefly at the realization that he had fallen asleep. He quickly took stock, jerking upright from where he had slumped against the tree. He felt the raccoon, still swaddled in his lap, shifted from the sudden movement and he paused, taking a moment to breath and calm himself. Virgil was still there. His dream visions flooded back to him.

Virgil was going to be fine.

Everything was going to be fine.

"Thanks," Roman mumbled towards the lanky witch accepting the bowl, a small smile playing on his lips.

Logan hesitated, surprised by the ease of acceptance from the prince. He wasn't sure what had changed but the witch was more than a little relieved.

To be continued...

Taglist:

@hiddendreamer67 @nightashes @aequinoctiale @sumersnowlilly

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