#words will never be enough to describe the fucking pain i’ve felt from your betrayal

[julesmikas]

I just don't understand

How you don't miss me, in the shower

And remember, how my rain-soaked body

Was shakin', do you hate me?

Was it hazing? For a cruel fraternity

I pledged and I still mean it

Old habits die screaming

(Four months) of breathin' clean air

I still miss the smoke

Were you makin' fun of me

With some esoteric joke?

Now I wanna sell my house

And set fire to all my clothes

And hire a priest to come and exorcise my demons

Even if I die screaming

And I hope you hear it. . .

AND I HOPE IT’S SHITTY, IN THE BLACK DOG

When someone plays "The Starting Line"

And you jump up, but she's too young to know this song

That was intertwined in the tragic fabric of our dreaming

'CAUSE TAIL BETWEEN YOUR LEGS, YOU’RE LEAVIN’

(tail between your fucking legs, you’re leaving.)

[bokunosimpfiction]

Yandere!Karl Heisenberg x Reader Pt. 2

You could read this as a stand-alone fic, but there’s some more context of the situation on the first one.

Usertags: @fandomtrashgoddess

Synopsis: Some fluff/hurt slash comfort after and escape attempt. tw:kidnapping (implied) tw:physical abuse (implied)

             You sat on in the bathtub, facing the wall, head leaned back, while Heisenberg sat on the toilet seat behind you. You counted the little dots and indentations in the ceiling while he repaired your injuries.

             You tried not to hiss when he poked around your face, checking your wounds and scratches for any metal debris or splinters. Your eyes watered when he would pull one out, no matter how gently he did it (or tried to), it made your eyes water. You pretended to be strong.

             After a little bit you feel a warm, damp cloth pat your skin. It doesn’t sting as much, and if anything soothes the burn.

             “I told you not to try and escape,” he mutters, “look at what you did to yourself… You’re lucky I found you when I did.”

             “Who was the one that set up the traps that almost killed me?” Your voice was hoarse, dry, and tired from screaming, and your body was sore from running and kicking and screaming. You lost the fight in you an hour or so ago, and here you were being cleaned up from the mess that was made. The mess that you made.

             “I wouldn’t have to set up traps like that if you stopped trying to escape.” He takes a cotton pad with saline solution on it and lightly dabs at the cuts all across your face. “These are going scar, sweetie.” You can feel the sarcasm and hostility at the end but chose to ignore it. “You’ll be beautiful no matter what, of course, but you get them through pain, and I can’t stand the thought you ever being hurt.”

             “Okay boomer.”

             “What the ever-living fuck is a boomer?”

             “Google it.”

             “How did you even get wifi here?”

             “Not telling.”

             He sighs and begins to gently apply aloe to the cuts. You’d never use those words to describe Heisenberg. He’s big, bulky, strong, and intimidating, but for some reason his rough and callous covered hands managed to be so nimble and delicate on top of being bulky and strong. It has to do with his tinkering and building, you suppose.

             He places a kiss on your forehead, above one of the bigger gashes and leans your head off of his lap. “Alright, I think that’s the last of them.”

             You still sit in the tub, covering yourself with your left, covered in gauze and bandages. The other one in a sling with ice inside. It hurt terribly, some of the worst pain you’ve ever felt. You remind yourself to NOT dislocate your elbow.

             You felt so exposed, in nothing but an oversized tank-top and your underwear. He had put you in one of his shirts to have easier access to your arms and such. You were exhausted, and just needed sleep. But you knew that you had a punishment ahead of you, and that you needed to endure a little longer.

             He tilts your head up, to look him in the eyes. There was so much more emotion than you could comprehend: anger, sadness, betrayal, love, there were too many and he was clearly conflicted on what to do.

             He scoops you up bridal style, easily, and holds you close. “I think you’ve learned your lesson for now, being chased by propeller man is more than enough excitement for today, we’ll worry about the consequences tommorow.”

             You just nod your head. “Thank you, Dr. Doofenshmirtz.” It’s a quiet statement, and despite the exhaustion, you still are able to maintain a bit of snark. You refuse to be fully submissive, and in moments where you don’t have the energy to fight physically or battle it out with yelling insults or witty comebacks, you have to resort to statements like these.

             “I told you to call me Karl.”

             You pretend to consider it for a moment. “Hm… no.”

             “I might change my mind and spank you now.”

             You yawn. “You don’t have the nerve.”

             Still, he carries you gently into the shared bedroom. The kink-sized bed with beige sheets and a comforter folded at the end of the bed. It was yours mostly because it’s always cold at night. Heisenberg always found his way under it or wrapped around it somehow, and by morning he was either dead asleep with no way to escape or in the workshop, waiting for you to come visit him in your pajamas.

             “You’re not going to be able to change tonight by yourself.”

             “I’d like to try.”

             “Well, you won’t.”

             “Don’t act so tough, Schwarzenegger.” All of this snark is tiring you out, but you refuse to give up what little control you have left: freedom of speech. Thank God for being an American because lord do you know how to use it.

             “I’d imagine you’d learn to shut your mouth after all the times I’ve gagged you but apparently not.” He sits you down on the poorly made bed and slips his shirt off you. The cold nips at your skin and perks your nipples, which he ogles at for several moments before going to the shared dresser.

             He doesn’t ask how cold you are, just grabs the short-sleeved slip-on night gown from its place in the draw and a pair of underwear. He lifts your legs and slips off your current pair. It’s been a while since you last shaved, but he shows no disgust or even disinterest. He wants to lean closer, smell you, taste you, feel you, but he restrains himself. Your shaken and tired enough as is, no need to worsen that. He slides the new pair back up, lifting your ass with his hands while he pulls the briefs up to the small of your back.

             He slides the sling off your arm, and carefully maneuvers it through the arm hole. “Keep it still, okay.” His voice is soft and gruff, and for a moment, you melt, before you remembered he kidnapped you. You’ve had more domestic moments, ruined by the circumstance in which they came, but for some reason, you feel his caring nature come through more.

             He slides your other arm through the arm hole and tugs the dress down over your head. It’s bunched at your hips from you sitting, but there’s not much he can do about it besides move you, which he doesn’t plan on doing.

             “Heisenberg?” You call out softly, pulling him out of his train of thoughts, “I’d like to go to bed now.” Why the hell do you have to ask for his permission? But you do anyhow. He pushes you back onto your side of the bed, and rests your head on the pillow, that’s almost flat enough to be replaced. Almost. He pulls the covers from under you, and tucks you in up to your chin, just like how you would a child. You see him walk to the end of the bed, his coat moving behind him as he pulls the comforter up. He leans down, and you look in his eyes a moment before kissing you on the forehead.

             “Goodnight pumpkin.”

             “Goodnight Zoidberg.”

             “Goddamn it.”

[witcher-and-his-bard-archive]

When It Pulls Me Under (Will You Make Me Stronger?)

also on ao3

written for the Monster March prompt list

From the moment he sees the notice, Geralt is horrified. The description of the man is far too familiar, the details piercing through the thick protective walls he's been building around himself.

There is a group of men gathered around the signboard, picking up flyers and huddling around one in particular. A contract on a man possessed. It sounds like an old wive’s tale and most of the men are surely there to pick up an easy coin on what they think is a drunk roaming the town. Geralt knows better.

Demonic possession isn't common, but he's seen it before. He's fought them and sent them back to the otherworld they come from. Only this time, the man they describe, the one thought to be possessed, is Jaskier. Geralt is certain of it.

It's been months since they've seen each other, but the way they parted, Jaskier's whole demeanour, his expression- if he truly felt the way he looked on the top of that mountain, the way he felt, he'd be much more susceptible to possession.

And it's Geralt's fault.

He shoves through the crowd, grabbing the notice from a gruff-looking man with a black beard. A few of them shout and shove, but when they look up at him, all fall silent. One or two slink away, knowing they're no match for a Witcher, especially in this field, but most of them watch him in stunned silence. They reek of fear, and for once Geralt is glad for it. He doesn't want anyone getting involved and mucking this up. It's been a long time since their parting on the mountain and he can only hope the demon hasn't taken hold of Jaskier completely.

It's rare that Geralt has full faith in any notice or request for a Witcher, but as he folds the paper and tucks it into his jerkin, he's certain.

The request says to speak to the local blacksmith, so that's where Geralt heads first. He doesn't know what to expect, nor is he particularly looking forward to what he'll find, but he needs to know. Jaskier was- is important to him and if he can help in any way, he'll be happy to. Demons can and will eventually take over their host body, leaving the host all but dead, unable to move and think for themself, and Geralt would rather let the thing possess him than let that happen to Jaskier.

The blacksmith says exactly what Geralt was expecting; a foppish, well-dressed man with a bright smile. He'd killed four already in town, and there were rumours of cases in surrounding towns and villages as well. All people betrayed. Like Jaskier was betrayed by him.

He spends the remainder of the day gathering any information he can from the locals and rents a room at the inn. It's more for Jaskier once he's finished than it is for himself, but it gives him someone to keep his things when he's not needing them. And it gives him an excuse for a warm meal and an ale - not that he thinks he deserves either.

Because all of this is his fault. Four people are dead, likely more, and Jaskier risks losing his own life if he's not quick enough - all because Geralt fucked up so many months ago.

He never wanted to push Jaskier away. If anything, after losing Yen, he wanted to bring him closer, hold him closer, know that someone at least was still there for him. But everyone leaves eventually - Yen had only proven that - so why not make it sooner rather than later. Why fall further in love only to have him ripped away later anyway, if not by choice, then by the brutal mortality of a human.

He shakes his head, looks down at his stew, but he's not hungry any longer. Pushing the bowl aside, Geralt empties his mug and rises from the table. He has to get started or he'll lose his mind lingering here, even if there's not much to go off yet. He'll just have to wait.

The last murder took place just at the back of the grain farm, so Geralt sets himself up there, waiting. It's late before there's any sign of anything, and when he does show up, Geralt smells him before he sees him. He stinks of fear and betrayal and loathing and Geralt wants to run so he doesn't have to see the pain on his pace, so he doesn't have to face what he's done. But he knows better now. Jaskier deserves better. And he has a job to do. More people will die if he doesn't take care of this now.

Luckily (or not) Jaskier spots him too, sauntering over like he doesn't have a care in the world. Only Geralt can tell immediately that it's not Jaskier. The movements are too fluid for a human body, the way he holds himself just slightly off.

The demon approaches knowing full well who Geralt is, what he's there for, and it steps right up to him, the smug smirk on its face a mockery.

"Well, Witcher," it says in Jaskier's voice, "didn't expect to see me, did you?"

"You're not him," Geralt says calmly, keeping his voice as steady as he can manage. "You reek of your own plane, I'd know you weren't him in an instant"

"Oh, but I am," it purrs, "your bard is in here... somewhere, but he's sleeping. It's all me now."

Geralt grits his teeth. He knows that isn't true. His medallion trembles against his chest and he can smell the scent of ozone and sulphur but, he knows Jaskier is still in there. He's fought against demons who have completely consumed their host and they aren't like this.

"Get out of him," he warns, knowing full well there's nothing he can do. He needs to bring Jaskier to the surface, needs Jaskier to be the one to push the demon from his body. Any harm Geralt can do risks harm to Jaskier as well.

"I don't think I will," it shrugs. "I like this body. Everyone likes this body. It's so easy to get close to them, to lull them into a sense of security and then-"

"Enough!" Geralt growls, "I know what you've been doing with his body! I'm here to put an end to it."

"Mmm, sure you are. And how do you intend to do that without harming your poor, precious bard?"

He doesn't know. The last time they saw each other, Geralt was furious and Jaskier was... if he had to put a word to it, he'd say he was devastated. The last person he'll want to see is Geralt and without time to find someone he will react to... Geralt doesn't break eye contact. He has to try something.

It's a long shot, even for him, but he mumbles the beginning notes from memory; he's heard them often enough to know the whole damn song by heart. If anything could bring Jaskier back, it's his music.

But he hums a little and there's no response. Again, and there's no response. So he thinks back to a night he spent at a tavern, to a bright-eyed bard with curly blonde hair. She had announced the song as belonging to Jaskier, but Geralt didn't recognize it, but it was emotional. And he understood at once who it was intended for. Clearing his throat, he tries out the words,

"The fairer sex, they often call it-"

The demon laughs and mocks him, but Geralt doesn't relent, singing as much as he can recall from that night. And when he runs out of words, his chest aches and he moves instinctively, reaching out to grab Jaskier's shoulder.

"I'm sorry," he whispers and the body under his hand jolts. It's so brief he would miss it were he human, but it happens, and when he looks up, there's clarity behind those blue eyes, recognition.

"Jaskier!" he exclaims and Jaskier's whole demeanour shifts.

"Geralt?" he asks, groggy, confused.

"Yes! Yes, it's me. Jaskier, are you-" there's a gurgling groan and Jaskier stiffens again.

"I don't think so," the demon's voice comes, taunting and sharp. "You had a chance. You left him, right? Your choice. So he's mine now." There's a choking sound and a growl that could rival that of a wolf and Jaskier's limbs loosen again.

Geralt reaches for him immediately and Jaskier slumps forward into his arms, panting.

"'S hard to fight," he mumbles and Geralt tugs him forward, helps him straighten up.

"How did you do that?" Geralt huffs, meeting Jaskier's eyes again as they stand up straight.

"Heard you," he offers a small smile, "knew you must have come to help. Geralt, I didn't mean to- I didn't want this-"

"I know. Jaskier, I know. It took advantage, it's my fault."

"No, I should have known better than to think you'd-"

Geralt doesn't think before winding his arms around him and pulling Jaskier into a warm embrace. He holds him close and presses his nose into Jaskier's neck.

"Not your fault," he mumbles. "I never wanted you to think you were unwanted, that I didn't care-"

"Geralt," Jaskier says, pulling back out of his arms, "what are you saying?"

Unthinking, Geralt leans forward, catching Jaskier's lips in a desperate kiss. His mouth tastes of sulphur and ash, but he pushes past that, feeling Jaskier soft and real under his hands. He's human, Geralt reminds himself, this can be expelled. And even as Jaskier pulls back again, a look of shock on his face, he seems brighter, his skin a little less pale.

"Geralt," he whispers, "what-" Geralt tips forward, their noses bumping together in the proximity.

"Can you hold it?" he asks. "You broke free from its hold, can you keep that control?"

"It's hard."

"I need you to try," Geralt breathes, shutting his eyes. "I can't help you, Jaskier, you need to expel it yourself."

"How?" he asks, panicky.

"Hold on to something. It was able to take hold because you were weak, right? Because of what I said?

"Geralt-"

"You need to be strong, find something and hold onto that, show it that it has no place in your body any longer. What helped you break free the first time?"

Jaskier suddenly goes very quiet, ducks his head so he's not looking at Geralt.

"I heard your voice," he admits, "and I've been hoping, gods Geralt, I've been so desperate to see you again, to make sure you're okay that nothing has finally-" he cuts himself off and Geralt nods quietly. He understands.

"I'm so sorry," he whispers, "hold on to me, then. Focus on me, on my hands, on my voice." He kisses him again and Jaskier lets out a soft sound, wrapping his arms around Geralt's neck and holding him close.

He kisses him like he's dying for it and Geralt thinks grimly that it's an apt comparison. But he'll take it. He'll do anything to get this thing out of Jaskier, to have Jaskier back at his side like he used to be. To maybe be given a chance for what he really wants.

He puts all of his energy into kissing Jaskier, running his hands over his body, proving to him that he cares, that he's here now even if he hasn't been. That he's coming back to take him away from this darkness. His hands slip under Jaskier's doublet, tangling in the soft linen of his shirt and he clings to him.

Jaskier makes a soft sound and presses forward fitting against him like that's where he belongs and Geralt wants so badly to believe that he does. That all of this can be fixed, after all. Fingers slip into his hair, tugging lightly and Geralt can't help the little groan that escapes him, but it only seems to push Jaskier on.

Jaskier draws back, nipping at Geralt's lip and when he pulls back completely, he's panting, his cheeks flushed and bright with colour.

"How do you feel?" Geralt asks and Jaskier tips forward, brushing his lips against Geralt's neck.

"Good. Stronger than I have in months. Geralt, I have a thought. What if... if you're what I need to fight it off what if you- if we-"

"Anything," Geralt hums, "anything to get it out of you."

Jaskier leans in, pressing his lips to the shell of Geralt's ear. "Fuck me," he whispers and Geralt nearly stumbles at the request.

"Jask-"

"I need you," he whispers, "Geralt, I want you. I've always wanted you and you- you can give me that now and I'll never bother you again, but please."

"Okay," Geralt huffs, "okay, but not because I need to. Jaskier, I... want you, too. That's why I'm here, now."

"Say it again," Jaskier whispers.

"I want you."

"Mmm. Again."

"Jaskier," Geralt repeats, slipping his hands down to the small of his back and tugging him forward, "I love you. I want you. I will do anything to get you free of this thing." He lifts him off his feet and there's no hesitation. It feels like Jaskier's body would appear to anyone else that he's alone in it now, but Geralt knows better. He knows Jaskier can't keep this up forever, that the bond between them is the only thing keeping the demon at bay.

Geralt finds a spot near the treeline and kneels down in a patch of clover. He tugs his cloak off and lays it out as well as he can, spreading it out with one hand before laying Jaskier down on it. It feels somewhat like handling a bomb, afraid that one wrong move could shift Jaskier's control and he could lose him again. Geralt may be what he's clinging to to pull himself back, but he's also the reason Jaskier was so low in the first place. He thinks, briefly, that it's a good thing his emotional stability is not what's keeping Jaskier safe or they'd be fucked.

Jaskier settles himself and reaches up for him, fingers slipping around his neck and Geralt moves over him, dropping onto his elbows. He noses at Jaskier's neck, kissing behind his head and down to the crook of his shoulder, gently lifting his shirt and doublet out of the way as they interfere. His heart is pounding and he's never felt so out of his depth with Jaskier before, but he can't fuck this up. If he fucks this up-

Soft hands come to settle on his face and he's aware of Jaskier's voice, but it's foggy, like a dream. Geralt's body moves as though on its own, working open the clasps on Jaskier's doublet and lifting the shirt up over his head. He runs his fingers through dark chest hair, stopping over a freshly healed scar. It snaps the last of his focus and Geralt curls his hand into a fist, pressed firmly over Jaskier's head.

He doesn't realize he's trembling until Jaskier pushes him up, rolls him onto his side.

"Hey," he breathes, and Geralt's eyes snap up to his. "Hey, it's just me. It's... quiet right now, thanks to you." Jaskier climbs onto him, straddling his thighs, and for a split second, Geralt is terrified he's fucked up, that the demon is in control and this is Jaskier's revenge on him.

But his medallion only lightly shakes against his chest and Jaskier's touch is soft and reassuring. So Geralt steadies himself, allows Jaskier to undress him and tries to focus on the touch of him. But he should be doing more, he should be- He doesn't realize he's speaking out loud until Jaskier interrupts him with a pointed kiss that lingers longer, Geralt suspects, than intended.

"You don't have to do anything," Jaskier breathes against him, "it, er- it's actually better being able to touch you. I- well, Geralt you must know that I've wanted you."

"Yeah..." he replies slowly, "Jaskier, I-

"Shh," Jaskier hums, "if you really think this will help, let's just get rid of this thing first."

Jaskier reaches down with one hand, easily pulling Geralt's trousers open and slipping a hand inside, wrapping around his cock. It feels good and he's thought about this more times than he can remember, but he can't settle, and even Jaskier's hand around him, fingers slipping up the length of him, fails to get him hard. He squirms and bucks, trying to get his body to cooperate, to no avail.

He feels the shift when it happens, like a shudder in the air and he knows Jaskier is slipping. His medallion shakes and Geralt pulls Jaskier's hand from his cock, settling his hands on his sides.

"It's not your fault," he whispers, "it's not you."

"Geralt, you don't have to-"

"I know. I want to, I just- I don't know what's wrong."

"You're in your head," Jaskier says simply, "you're always so... locked up up there. Maybe we shouldn't."

Geralt shuts his eyes and pulls Jaskier against him. Jaskier settles and Geralt pushes one hand up his spine, curling around the back of his neck. The other moves down, following the same line toward his lower back to cup his ass. He pushes Jaskier's hips forward and there's a soft little groan against his neck and he can feel the press of Jaskier's cock, hard against Geralt's hip.

"I still want you," Geralt whispers. The words feel stilted on his tongue, but there isn't time for him to worry about how he sounds or what Jaskier thinks of him because he's not the one at risk here. He reaches into the pouch on his thigh, fumbling with the bottles until he finds the one he's looking for.

There's not a lot of oil left, but it's the only one he has that he would risk putting on Jaskier's skin. Tentatively, he pushes Jaskier's trousers down, slipping his fingers between his cheeks. Jaskier's breath catches and Geralt can hear the thudding of his heartbeat, smell the scent of arousal drifting between them, but he's so worried about fucking this up. Jaskier's life could be in danger if the demon gets hold again.

"Okay?" he asks and Jaskier hums his confirmation into his neck, nosing under his jaw. Geralt hurriedly uncorks the bottle, and slicks his fingers, pushing back again and Jaskier shudders as they brush over his hole. Even Geralt shudders at the touch and he presses forward eagerly.

Jaskier opens for him easily, allowing two fingers inside him quickly. He fumbles to get his trousers undone, letting his cock slip free and peek out, rubbing against Geralt's skin. Pre-come eases the way as he rocks his hips in time with Geralt's fingers and Geralt's cock stirs.

Jaskier shifts, lifting himself to push back onto Geralt's fingers and then settling again so his cock sits alongside Geralt's. His hips twitch hard as Geralt's fingers brush his prostate and Geralt groans at the sensation. He readjusts his own position, shifting his torso so he can press deeper, bumping against his prostate with every thrust.

He keeps a steady pace going, one hand remaining on Jaskier's neck to brace him, even as Jaskier slumps against him, rutting mindlessly and nipping at his neck. He looks beautiful like this, feels incredible, and Geralt should be able to muster more than a twinge of arousal, but all he feels is scared.

Scared that this won't work, that he's taking advantage, that once this is done - if it is successful - Jaskier won't want anything to do with him again. He uses that emotion to push through, fucking into him until Jaskier's thighs shake around him and then, with a quick thrust, Jaskier's coming.

He shakes and shudders, hips jerking erratically and Geralt holds him with one hand, fucking him through it with the other. He's aware of Jaskier whispering in his ear, but he's too focused on the medallion, now shaking violently against his chest.

Then, just as abruptly as it started, it stops and Jaskier slumps.

Geralt holds his breath, withdrawing his hand and wrapping both arms around Jaskier's shoulders. He listens for a pulse, for the sound of breath and for a moment, there's nothing. Geralt shuts his eyes. He doesn't believe in any gods, nor destiny, but he pleads to them now, not to let Jaskier be taken from him, not for his words, not for his mistakes.

Just when Geralt thinks he's lost him, Jaskier inhales sharply against his neck, gives a soft grunt of protest and shifts to get comfortable. He doesn't wake and Geralt doesn't let him go, clinging tightly to him.

Jaskier doesn't wake until late that evening. They're back at the inn and Geralt's had a bath drawn and food brought up for them both, but he hasn't been able to eat. He'd cleaned them both up in the field, dressed Jaskier as well as he could manage and brought him back here. Since then, he's been pacing the room. For hours. When Jaskier stirs, Geralt nearly jumps out of his skin. He's at the bedside in an instant, on his knees next to him.

"Geralt?" Jaskier asks, confused. He's still a little woozy and Geralt doesn't know how much he'll wind up remembering.

"I'm here."

"How did I-" he eyelids flutter a little, "Geralt, did we-"

"Shh, relax. I'll tell you everything after you have a bath and something to eat." He reaches out, resting a hand on Jaskier's chest and Jaskier's hand comes up to cover it, slipping his fingers between Geralt's. His eyes fall shut again.

"You didn't get to come," he mumbles and Geralt huffs a laugh despite himself.

"It doesn't matter," Geralt breathes, leaning in and tentatively laying his head on Jaskier's stomach. "You're okay and that's all that matters." Jaskier's free hand curls around to push his fingers through Geralt's hair and he sighs softly.

"Later then," Jaskier says, "you can join me in the bath and I'll make you come."

[nervousladytraveler]

Anonymous Said: Showing affections Prompt #44--Tummy Kisses

(from the Like Someone universe)

“Sit still,” Demelza ordered and put an ice pack to Ross’s eye. He winced from the cold but knew better than to argue. She’d been eerily calm this whole time, from the moment he showed up on their doorstep, his nose bloodied, his shirt torn, his right eye swollen. She still appeared calm, but moved about the bedroom with an urgency of mission.

Her light fingers unbuttoned his shirt and examined his bruised side. Even though her brow furrowed and her lips were pulled tight, her face was inscrutable. She was standing next to him, tending to his needs, yet she was far away.

“I’m fine,” he mumbled but gasped when touched.

“Is that so? You don’t look fine and you certainly don’t sound fine,” she huffed. Was that impatience and anger?

“Do you think you should see a doctor?” she asked. Now her tone seemed to betray worry.

“No!”

“Ross, what if your ribs are broken?” She took the ice pack from his eye and gently put it to his ribs.

“They’re not broken,” he managed to hiss between throbs of pain.

“And how would you know that?” she laughed. He was glad to see the change in her expression, even if it meant she thought him a complete idiot.

“I’ve broken a rib before,” he explained. “This doesn’t feel like that.”

He took a deep breath to show her, then covered her hand with his, hoping he could reach her. It seemed to work for when she next spoke, she couldn’t disguise the tenderness in her voice.

“Oh? In the army?” she asked cautiously. He never spoke of his experience in Cyprus just like she never talked about her childhood.

“No, I fell off a horse when I was sixteen.” It was a painful memory and thinking about it wasn’t helping him feel better now.

“Were you pissed or just showin’ off?”

“Both, as I recall.” He gave a weak smile, fairly certain a laugh would hurt too much.

Ross took the ice from her and moved it back to his eye, then considered putting it to his puffy lip. He hadn’t looked in the mirror but expected he was a ghastly sight. He still held his right hand aloft, as if the scraped knuckles were his biggest injury.

“Do you think George will file a complaint?” she asked.

Taking his cue, she took his hand in hers to examine it. When she dabbed the split skin with cotton wool soaked in surgical spirit, it stung horribly. Surely she knew that it would. Could it be that she enjoyed watching him flinch? She was rapidly cycling between moods again.

“I don’t know,” he replied. “But I doubt it. He might find it humiliating to admit he was…”

“Beat up? That is, can I assume it wasn’t Warleggan that threw the first punch?”

“You can--and you’d be correct.”

“And you still won’t tell me what George said that made you so enraged?” She held his chin and looked into his eyes for one agonizing moment, then perhaps sensing his discomfort, released him.

“No, no I won’t.” Ross was firm on that score. It was better she never know. George’s insult would be something she couldn't unhear or easily forget.

“You are so fuckin’ stubborn,” she mumbled and stepped back to give him another head to toe appraisal.

Trickles of blood from his nose had stained the front of her hoodie. He hated seeing that on her, hated himself for bringing that into their home.

“Of course George wouldn’t actually hit another grown man unless egged on.” She laughed but Ross thought he heard a note of tired resignation. “If he wanted to hurt someone or even ruin them, he’d use his snarky attitude or his money, not his fists. Seems like maybe he’s a wiser man.”

“Than me?” Ross sputtered. She couldn’t mean it.

“I don’t understand, Ross!” She ignored his question and plopped down on the bed next to him. Yes, it was tired resignation. “Why is George Warleggan such a menace to you all of a sudden?”

“It’s hardly sudden. He’s been after Carnmore for years, and now? Now, his shadow lurks over the Trenwith Poldarks too. He’s interfering with my family…”

“I thought we were your family. Us--here at Nampara?” she interrupted.

“Demelza,” he exhaled, frustrated that he couldn’t find the right words. “Of course, you are my family...”

“Yet it was a threat from George to Elizabeth that provoked you…” she began.

“Demelza…” he sighed.

Again she ignored him and after a quick eye roll, continued. “Sorry, a threat to Elizabeth and Uncle Charles made you hit him?”

“No, that wasn’t it.” It hurt to shake his head.

“Whatever. Okay Ross, take your shirt off entirely,” she ordered and rose to her feet again. “Trousers too.”

“What are you doing?” he asked. Without thinking he obeyed her command and began the valiant struggle to free himself from his clothes. It took longer than he expected and he was grateful when she removed his trousers for him so he didn't have to bend over.

“We need photos of your injuries. In case George does pursue charges, we’ll have a record of the damage he did to you.” She’d pulled her mobile from her pocket and began taking pictures of his nose, his mouth. She tilted his head to get a better angle of his eye, then she gave him a soft kiss on his temple.

She had no idea how much he needed that--or maybe she did.

“Okay, now your hand. Consider it evidence,” she went on.

“Evidence that I hit him,” Ross said, then taking a chance, he held his hand up and flashed his more imploring eyes. She took the bait and gave his knuckles a kiss.

“Now for your side, I need more light. Can you stand? Or maybe lie down? No, sit up but just turn this way…”

“Ugh!” he groaned, unable to hide the difficulty in even a slight twist of his torso.

“Ross! Fucking hell! If it hurts that much to turn...”

“I’m fine,” he insisted.

Without touching him, she took a few snaps of his ribs, then sat down again. This time it sounded like a sigh and whimper collected in her throat.

“Ross,” she said, her head slipped into her hands.

He rubbed her back, aware that he was now soothing her. He’d prefer to take her in his arms but doubted he had the mobility to pull that off.

“Demelza? I know you’re angry at me…” he began.

“No, Ross. It isn’t that simple.”

“You think that I'm not listening to you…”

Intrigued, she looked up and raised one brow. She was clearly listening.

“I am--I mean, I do listen,” he said.

She put her hand on his thigh. It felt good, mostly because he welcomed her touch but also because his legs were among the only parts of his body not throbbing in pain.

“Yes, Ross,” she said softly.

His heart sank. It wasn't what she said, but what she didn’t say.

Of course.

She’d grown up in a household of unpredictable anger and physical brutality--a world she took great pains to leave behind when she came to Nampara. For Ross to cavalierly and unapologetically engage in that very same behavior, was not just a disappointment, but a betrayal of her trust. She had to know the man she loved wouldn’t ever bring violence into her life--even if he was capable of it.

He had to show her.

“Demelza, I’m sorry,” he said.

“I know,” she whispered.

“And I won’t ever again...”

“Don't make promises Ross. Just try your best,” she said softly. “And just know that I can’t stand to see you hurt.”

“I’ll remember that,” he said and squeezed her hand.

“And George Warleggan certainly isn’t worth all this,” she snorted.

“No, he’s not,” he agreed then felt the need for some levity. “I’ll choose better enemies in future.”

“Oh?” It worked. She was amused.

“Like...an angry bear. What if I promise to only resort to violence again if I need to defend you from a bear?”

“Bears have been extinct on this isle for 1500 years,” she said matter-of-factly.

“Wolves?”

“No wolves--gone since the 16th century.” She smiled at yet another factual triumph.

“I’m always impressed with how much you know,” he laughed. “You really did pay attention in school, didn't you? Okay...only if I need to defend you from a madman…”

“Close, but still not quite good enough. It would have to be a madman with a knife,” she suggested. “Or of course a madwoman--with a knife.”

“That sounds fair,” he nodded and took her hand again, tracing her fingers with his thumb.

“Ross, love, lie down and I’ll get you some more ice.”

“I don't want ice. Just your kisses.” He suppressed a groan as he managed to stretch out on the bed.

“Oh?“ she laughed. “Kisses won’t bring down the swellin’ or ease the pain.”

“Yes, they most certainly will ease it. They’ll give me pleasure.” He pulled her down level with him.

“But I might hurt you!’ she cried and began to pull away.

“No you won’t. I’ll show you. Start here.” He pointed to a spot on the side that had managed to escape injury from left-handed George.

“Yes, Ross,” She gingerly kissed his external oblique then pulled away with a giggle.

“Now here.” A little lower. This time she lingered a little longer.

“And here…” Ross knew those lips and what they were capable of. He closed his eyes and struggled to let himself go.

Her open mouth on his skin moved him but he tried not to react too much to the exhilaration. Even small movements brought agony. Her hands were no longer tentative, and with inspired strokes, she traced along the noticeable groove his ligaments made connecting his middle to his groin.

Without waiting for his directive, she moved a few inches inward along his waistline and gave another kiss.

“Now my tummy.”

“Tummy?” She looked up at him, eyes bright, teeth gleaming in an uncontrollable smile.

He’d never used that word with her before to describe his abdomen. She seemed to see he was aiming for a laugh and was willing to play along.

She kissed his navel, careful to stay on the unbruised side of his body.

“Yes, tummy.” He pointed to the shadowy region that crept up from the top of his boxers.

“Um Ross? That’s not your tummy.”

[jenonctcity]

My Responsibility - Part 3

Differences - Huang Renjun  

Part of the Bad Boy Series.

Badboy!Au, Parent!Au

Warnings: Angsty, Mentions of drug taking, Mentions of injury/blood, Fighting.

Word Count: 5.1k

 Devasted. That’s the word you would use to best describe how you were feeling in the past week that you hadn’t been with Renjun. You were absolutely devasted that the man you had came to invest all your love in had betrayed you in the way that he did. You had made it clear to him that the one thing you couldn’t stand was lying, as you already had a relationship fall apart due to it. And from what you had heard of the argument that occurred outside of your apartment door, Renjun had also had a relationship fall apart because of lying, although it was his lies that broke it. You were also shocked to the core that he was a father. It wasn’t only his lie about being a father that had you feeling sick from betrayal, it was the fact he has a child and didn’t trust you enough to tell you. He could see that you loved playing with Jiyeon and taking care of her, so you couldn’t wrap your head around why he felt the need to lie to you. You also wondered what else he had been lying to you about. You hadn’t spoken to him since that day, and you did your very best to avoid him, only leaving your apartment when you deemed it safe from his presence.

One thing you couldn’t avoid, was going to work. As much as you wanted to phone in sick and wallow in your own self-pity, you couldn’t afford to and you didn’t want to risk losing your job. You also thought work could be a good distraction from the rumination going on inside of your head, and so far, it had worked. All thoughts of Renjun had been wiped from your head when you were at work, but as soon as you stepped foot into your apartment building you couldn’t help but let the lying man infiltrate your brain.

You pulled on your scarf and slipped on your shoes, groaning quietly as you opened your apartment door and stepped out of it, shutting it as gently as you possibly could in hopes that Renjun wouldn’t hear the door shut and attempt to talk to you. But luck never seemed to be on your side, as when you turned around you saw the apartment door opposite yours open. Renjun stepped out with his head down at first, but then after he shut the door he glanced up. He felt his heart drop as he looked at your emotionless face staring at him. His words caught in his throat, his mouth opening and closing as he tried to conjure up the words he’d been rehearsing in his head ever since that day. You rolled your eyes and started to walk towards the stairs, not wanting to risk taking the elevator and being stuck in a confined space with him.

“Wait!” He grabbed your wrist, tugging you around to face him. His eyes screamed sadness, and you had to push down how much you cared because this is the man that broke your heart. “Please talk to me, I have so much I want to explain to you.” He let go of your wrist, almost grabbing it against in case you tried to flee. You crossed your arms over your chest and let out a sigh, waiting for a moment before turning towards the stairs again. You let out a squeal as he grabbed you by the shoulders, spinning you around and pushing you up against the wall. He caged you to the wall with his body, both his forearms planted on the wall either side of your head, with his face only centimetres away from your own. “Please…” He whispered, his voice cracking as a lump rose up in his throat. You slowly glanced up to look him in the eyes, seeing the tears rising in the waterline of his eyes.

“Renjun, let me go.” Your voice was wobbly as you tried to assert dominance over him. He shook his head as a tear trailed down his cheek.

“No, you won’t even let me explain.” He sniffed back his emotions and leaned his forehead against your own.

“I don’t need you to explain. You’re a liar Renjun.” You whispered, gulping and trying not to cry as you saw him cry.

“Baby please.” He leaned in and tried to kiss you, but you moved your face to the side, his soft lips hitting your cheek and leaving behind the faint remnants of his spit from where his lips had been parted.

“Renjun no. It hurts me so much to be near you, because I miss you and I’m in love with you.” You gulped once more, squeezing your eyes shut as he moved a hand from the wall to gently grab your jaw, turning your face towards his once more. “But you hurt me so bad.” His lips pressed to yours more gently than he’d ever kissed you, making no effort to move his lips, simply letting them rest against yours. You tried so hard not to break down in front of him, holding your breath until he pulled away.

“Let me make it right.” His words fanned across your lips, his lips caressing yours once more in a lingering kiss.

“No.” You broke the kiss, pushing him away softly and shaking your head. “I need more time…please don’t try to contact me until I’m ready.” Without sparing him another glance, you walked away, leaving him stood in the hallway on his own.

---

Renjun wanted to do nothing more than lay in his bed and wallow in self-pity. After his encounter with you in the hallway where you’d told him how much he’d hurt you, he felt like the biggest fuckhead in the world. He knew he should never had lied to you, and he was kicking himself for how things went down. But being a father meant he couldn’t just lay in bed and do nothing. He also had money to make, and to keep his brain muted of thoughts about you, he’d dove balls deep into his job. He’d stolen three cars and had managed to strip them all down to parts, selling them on for a hefty price. It was also during this time that Jiyeon’s mother showed up at the apartment with a little suitcase, reminding Renjun that she was going away for a week and that Renjun had agreed to have Jiyeon all week. Of course he’d forgotten, and he’d tried to persuade Jiyeon’s mother that he hadn’t. But she didn’t believe him.

He was laid in bed, watching tv with Jiyeon cradled in his arm, her pacifier in her mouth as she watched the cartoons and fiddled with her teddy bear. He let out a sigh, his phone pinging beside him and grasping his attention from the tv. He picked it up and saw a text from Haechan.

From: Haechan

Hey loser, get your ass down to the car meet. We’re all here to support Jaemin and you aren’t. Give the baby to someone else for the night!

So less than an hour later Renjun found himself in his car, pulling up beside the other cars he knew as his friends cars, all parked in a line in an unused car park that was being used as the start point for the race being held at midnight. They were all crowded around Jaemin’s car and glanced over at Renjun’s car as he parked beside it.

“Ey! Here he is!” Haechan cheered, throwing his lit cigarette on the floor and smiling widely at Renjun. Renjun got out of the car and rolled his eyes.

“I’m here by popular demand.” He immediately got out his own packet of cigarettes and lit one, taking a long drag and blowing the smoke up into the cool night air.

“Who’s looking after Jiyeon then?” Jaemin asked, sitting on the bonnet of his car with his arms folded over his chest.

“Oh…about that.” Renjun dropped his cigarette to the floor and used the toe of his shoe to stub it out. He opened up the back door to his car and the boys were met with the sight of Jiyeon staring at them front her car seat. “I couldn’t get anybody to watch her, so she had to come with me.” She squealed in delight at the sight of her beloved uncles, waving at them in the way Jeno had taught her to last time he watched over her. All of their jaws hit the floor in astonishment at her presence.

“You have to be fucking joking.” Jeno frowned, his voice deep and he tutted with a roll of his eyes. “Dad of the year award is definitely not going to you.”

“Hey! Watch the swears, any day now she will say her first word, I’m sure of it.” He unbuckled her from car seat and gently lifted her to sit her on his hip. She was dressed in her fluffy yellow duck onesie that Renjun knew she’d be cosy and warm in, and she had her tiny amount of hair in a little yellow bow that Renjun had done his best in attaching to the fine strands of black hair.

“You can’t bring a baby to a car race Renjun!” Jaemin hopped off the front of his car and shook his head. “You know how many dodgy people come to these places.”

“I’m not going to leave her unattended.” Renjun rolled his eyes and cuddled his daughter closer to him, frowning at his friends and huffing. Jiyeon sucked on her pacifier, laying her head against her fathers’ chest and glancing around at her surroundings.

“Well, look at this lads.” A short, stocky man smirked as he approached their group with his own gang of minions. “Dad of the year is here.” He clearly found his own joke amusing, and so did his friends, as they all erupted in laughter.

“I’ve already told that joke.” Jeno mumbled to himself and let out a sigh, pushing himself off of Jaemin’s car and standing up straight, putting on an intimidating front as he stood beside Renjun.

“What do you want?” Renjun felt his body stiffen up at the man’s words, knowing the worst was yet to come.

“I’m going to win this race tonight,” He shot a glance at Jaemin and then looked back at Renjun. “Then you and your mistake will never show your faces around here again.” Renjun’s jaw clenched and he didn’t even realise what he was doing as he shoved Jiyeon into Haechan’s arms, launching at the man stood in front of him. No one disrespects his child in front of him and lives to tell the tale. He swung his fist, it hitting the man dead in the nose. He felt the crunch of bone underneath his fist and he was about to swing again when one of the man’s minions jumped in, hitting Renjun in the side of the head and knocking him sideways. He couldn’t feel the pain from the adrenaline pumping through him, his anger surging as he swung at anyone near him. Jeno and Jaemin jumped in and fought alongside him, while Haechan shoved Jiyeon into Jisung’s arms, the young boy now holding crying baby to his chest.

Everyone stopped when Renjun let out a loud groan, crumpling over with his hands to his gut, blood flowing over his pale hands as he dropped to his knees. The man who’d stabbed him with the pocketknife had a big smirk on his face, slowly backing away with the rest of the cowards who brought a knife to a fist fight. They ran off, laughing as they went, leaving the rest of the boys to stand with their mouths hanging open.

Renjun couldn’t believe he’d just been stabbed, thoughts rushing through his mind about how typical it was for his life to just get worse. He squeezed his eyes shut in agony, picturing you holding Jiyeon in your arms. You had a wide smile on your face as you bounced his daughter on your hip, her own mouth stretched with a toothy smile as she stared at you, laughter spilling from her lips in a high-pitched giggle. It was the last thing he thought of before he lost consciousness.

---

A knock on your door tore you out of your nap, consciousness suddenly infiltrating your mind and causing you to jolt upright on your sofa. You jumped up quickly, shuffling to the door in your slippers and pyjamas to see who wanted your attention. You didn’t think to look through the peep hole, and instead opened the door widely.

“Oh, Haechan, hey.” You were surprised to see Haechan stood opposite, your eyebrow raising slightly in curiosity of his presence. You couldn’t deny that he was hot. His clearly dyed light brown hair, his piercing brown eyes that were sometimes lined with black eyeliner, and his neck tattoo of a red rose and black and white skull on the left side of his neck finishing off his total bad boy look that would make most woman weak at the knees. He looked dangerous, and you assumed that he was, but you were too afraid to ask. He had always been nice to you though, so you weren’t going to judge him.

“Hey sweetheart, could you do me a huge favour?” He leaned against your doorframe, his hands in the pockets of his light blue jeans as he gave off a calm demeanour.

“Er yeah sure.” You shrugged, expecting it to be something like give him some sugar, or lend him a spare lightbulb or something. You weren’t expecting what he actually said though.

“Okay so long story short, Renjun got stabbed yesterday and he’s currently looking after Jiyeon, he’s struggling with doing the most basic tasks and I have to go out. No one else is home and he needs some help. Could you please go over and help him until one of us gets back?” Haechan pulled an awkward smile and scratched the back of his head, definitely expecting you to say no. Your mouth popped open and you shook your head in confusion.

“Wait what?! Renjun got stabbed?!”

“Yeah, he’ll live! He just needs some help because Jiyeon is only this big,” He put his hand by his knees to show you how big Jiyeon was like you didn’t already know. “And Renjun can’t bend over because he got stabbed in the abs.” Haechan shrugged, acting like it was nothing, much to your surprise. “So will you help me out?” You hesitated for a moment, looking at your hands awkwardly before nodding quickly.

“Okay yeah, let me just get dressed.” You turned around and rushed to your bedroom. Throwing on a pair of jogging bottoms and a hoodie which you didn’t even realise was one of Renjun’s until you looked at yourself in the mirror. You debated taking it off, but in the end, you couldn’t be bothered so you just shrugged and ran a brush through your hair. You headed back to where you left Haechan and he gave you a small smile, taking you across the hall to his apartment.

“Someone will probably be back in a few hours, Jiyeon is with him in his bed I think…well that’s where I left her! Have fun!” He shut the door behind himself as he left, leaving you in the foyer of the apartment. You let out a sigh, feeling nerves bundle up in your stomach at the thought of seeing Renjun again.

“I shouldn’t have agreed to this…” You mumbled, slowly wondering further into the apartment to Renjun’s bedroom. You knocked on the door and slowly pushed it open, giving him a barely there smile. He’s eyes widened when he saw you and he quickly jumped up from his bed. He winced and placed a hand over the patch on the right side of his abdomen. He wasn’t wearing a shirt, only wearing a pair of adidas black jogging bottoms. Jiyeon sat on his bed, propped up against his pillows with his phone in her hands.

“(Y/N) what are you doing here?” He didn’t want to get his hopes up that you were finally coming back into his life, but the little glimmer of hope that lit up like a fire in his stomach was hard to suppress.

“You got stabbed. Haechan asked me to help you out with Jiyeon for a little while.” You didn’t look at his face, instead opting to flit your eyes around the room before landing on his bare torso. “You got another tattoo…” You didn’t mean to say that out loud, but the words just slipped past your lips without your permission. He glanced down at his arm, looking at his new tattoo of a pocket watch surrounded by leaves, the whole piece being in black and white and blending in perfectly with another tattoo of an eye that he had on his arm.

“Yeah I did…” He nodded, giving you a soft smile. You cleared your throat, picking Jiyeon up from his bed and holding her on your hip. She dropped Renjun’s phone onto the bed, instead using her little hands to cling onto you.

“You should rest, she’ll be okay with me…just shout if you need anything.” Your voice was dull, and you couldn’t wait to leave the room, making your exit and going to the living room with the baby.

“Hey Jiyeonie.” You tried to show her some enthusiasm in your tone, but it was hard as you looked at what was technically the person who tore your relationship apart. Even if it wasn’t her fault.  You sat down on the sofa, sitting her on your lap facing you. She stared up at you and smiled, her innocent face causing tears to fill up in your eyes. “Oh god.” Your face crinkled up, cupping her little cheeks in your hands as everything dawned on you. You could see the resemblance of Renjun in her features, feeling stupid for not seeing it before you got your heart broken.

“Ba!” She started to babble, showing her fingers in her mouth as she watched you with inquisitive eyes. You tipped your head back, blinking your eyes to try and will the tears away.

“You’re so cute, it makes sense that you’re Renjun’s daughter, he’s cute too.” You talked quietly, bouncing her on your knee to keep her entertained. “What do I do? I love your daddy so much but he’s a fu-…stupid poo head.” You stopped yourself from swearing in front of her, opting to call him a more child friendly name.

You spent the next hour entertaining Jiyeon, feeding her some dinner before taking her back into Renjun’s room with her asleep in your arms. Renjun was watching the tv with one of his arms stretched above his head, he looked bored and suddenly perked up when you came into the room. “She’s asleep, where shall I put her?” You averted your gaze, looking at the floor as Renjun slowly stood up and approached you.

“I’ll take her, could you wait here for a moment? I want to speak to you.” He grabbed the baby monitor and left the room after you gave him the nod in confirmation. He took Jiyeon to Jaemin’s room and laid her on his bed, caging her on the bed with pillows and setting the baby monitor on the bedside table. He placed a gentle kiss to her forehead, tucking her underneath a blanket and making sure she was warm. He quickly made his way back to his own room, shutting the door behind him and letting out a sigh. You were stood awkwardly by his bed, fiddling with the sleeves on your hoodie and leaning your weight on one of your legs.

“You have five minutes Renjun.” You muttered, still not letting your eyes settle on his figure.

“Sit down, please baby.” He sat down on his bed, groaning at the pain in his abdomen from his wound. You looked at him upon hearing his pained groan, sitting beside him and biting your bottom lip.

“How did you get stabbed?” You had a worried tone in your voice, finally meeting his eyes. You could see how much tiredness and sadness laid behind his dark eyes, but you were sure yours held just as much.

“I have to start at the beginning, so please stick with me and let me explain.” He quickly took your hand in both of his, rubbing his thumb against the back of your hand. “I lied about what I do for work…well kind of, I do actually work at the mechanic shop some days. But I steal cars, and sell them on, or strip them down to parts and sell them on.” Your eyebrows raised and mouth parted slightly at his confession of his illegal doings. You felt your heart beating in your chest, your stomach flitting in nerves. You couldn’t help but think about the worst possible outcome, which would be Renjun being arrested for his crimes and Jiyeon being raised without a father. This being the worst possible outcome you thought of made you realise that you cared too much for you to care about his work. “Jaemin takes part in illegal street races, and I went along to one, and got in a fight.” Before he could continue you quickly asked what was playing on your mind.

“Why did you get in a fight?” He looked reluctant to tell you, but eventually let out a sigh.

“Please don’t judge me, but I took Jiyeon with me, and someone was talking shit about her and I got defensive. Then I got stabbed.” He watched your face to try and gauge your feelings towards everything he was spilling to you.

“I am judging you.” You deadpanned causing him to sigh. “You took a baby to an illegal car race! Huang Renjun you are an absolute dumbass! Anything could have happened! She’s so precious and you just risked her li-” He cut you off by pressing his lips to yours, moving one of his hands to grasp your jaw. You relaxed into the kiss, not having enough energy to fight against it. His lips moved slow against yours, and you kissed him back with passion. You couldn’t deny how much you’ve missed the feeling of his lips against your own, and you wanted nothing more than to get lost in his lips and fall into his trap once more. You pulled away and sighed. “You’re still a dumbass.”

“I know.” He pecked your lips, letting the kiss linger for a moment before he sat back, his hand still cradling your jaw as his thumb rubbed against your cheek. “I lied about Jiyeon because when I saw you standing at my door on the day that I met you, I wanted to get to know you so bad, and every other girl I’ve ever tried to impress has always ran away when I told them that I’m a dad at the age of nineteen. So I lied, and I regretted it straight away. Especially when you told me about your ex…I felt like the biggest idiot in the world and I tried to pluck up the courage to tell you the truth so many times. But I couldn’t.”

“Were you just going to lie forever if I had never found out?”

“No I would have told you the truth. Because I’m in love with you, and I want you in my life so bad that this past week has been one of the worst weeks of my life. And that’s saying something because my life hasn’t exactly been rainbows and sunshine.” You took all of his words in, and you knew you were stupid for the decision you’d just made inside of your head, but you couldn’t help being drawn to him like he was metal and you were a gigantic magnetic, being pulled towards him despite knowing it wasn’t a good idea. “I need you, and I get if you aren’t comfortable with me being a dad…but please take me back.” He whispered against your lips, leaning in closer until they were a hairs width away.

“Is that everything that you’d lied to me about?”

“Oh…sometimes I do drugs with the guys, but I wouldn’t ever do it around you or Jiyeon. I promise you. And if you don’t want me to do it anymore, then tell me and I’ll never touch anything again.”

“Renjun.” You sighed, turning your head away from him, shaking it slightly in disapproval.

“Listen, I know it’s a shitty thing to do, but its kind of my coping mechanism. From a young age I was expected to study, and I was completely under my parents’ control until I moved to Korea. Then when I finally got more freedom, I fucked up and became a dad. Which I don’t regret for even a second but, sometimes I just want to let loose, and all of my friends do it so it’s hard not to. It’s not easy being a teen dad. All I want to do is fuck my really hot girlfriend and smoke some weed.” He let out a soft chuckle that had a sad undertone to it. “But I also want to be a good dad, it’s what Jiyeon deserves and I really love her. She’s my number one priority and if anyone ever made my choose between them or her, it will always be her.”

“I would never make you pick something like that Renjun.” You shook your head, turning your head to look back at him. Your lips were grazing his and you felt your breath catch in your throat as you contemplated your decisions. “She’s an angel, it doesn’t bother me that you are a dad. It just bothered me that you lied about it. I won’t forget about it, and if I get the feeling that you are lying to me again about something then I will be pulling you up on it.” Renjun smiled widely, a quiet giggle coming out of his mouth sounding cuter than it should coming from someone of his appearance.

“You just said my baby is an angel!” He felt giddy and really happy that you were praising his child, something blooming inside of him that he would describe as pride and love.

“She is.” You let out a laugh and then cleared your throat, feeling as though you should still be mad at him, but struggling to be as he made you feel all mushy inside. Then you remembered a crucial fact that he’d told you that you hadn’t pulled him up on yet. “Wait you steal cars and sell them?! Renjun that’s such a horrible thing to do! People spend so much money on cars and you could be stealing someone’s pride and joy away from them.” Renjun’s eyes widened and so did the gap between the both of you as you both sat back.

“I mostly steal from wealthy people and places that sell cars! I know that its not a good excuse but it’s really good money, and I’m good at it.” His voice got a bit deeper as he explained himself.

“Until you get caught.” You rolled your eyes and said in a monotone voice.

“I won’t.” He grabbed your face in his hands and brought you in for a kissed filled with tongue and passion. You knew he was trying to distract you, but in that moment when you got a rush of butterflies filling your stomach at his touch, you couldn’t find it in you to care. “I want to make love to you, but I don’t think I can do it today…” He mumbled against your lips and then winced as he sat back.

“It’s okay.” You smiled and kissed his cheek quickly. “So when did you get that tattoo?” You took his hand in your own, holding his arm so that you could twist it to see the tattoo of the pocket watch from every angle.

“The day after you broke up with me. Do you like it?” He looked at the tattoo and then studied your face as you examined the artwork.

“I love it.” You very gently trailed your fingers over it, moving them over to the eye also tattooed onto his arm. “Is this Jiyeon’s eye?” He nodded to tell you that you were right, giving you a sweet smile. “She has your eyes.”

“You think?”

“Yeah, they’re beautiful.” You felt your cheeks heat up as you complimented Renjun.

“You’re beautiful.” He shot right back at you, giving you a cheeky wink before letting out a loud laugh.

“You’re being a cheese ball.” You laughed, leaning your head against his shoulder just as you heard crying come through the baby monitor. “Your baby is crying; you should go and get her.”

“Hey! I thought you were here to help me with her!” He stood up anyway, using the bed to support himself as he let out a small groan in pain.

“Oh yeah.” You laughed, standing up with him and taking his hand into your own. His hand felt warm, and it made the butterflies in your stomach wake up again as it dawned on you how natural it felt to hold his hand. As you picked up Jiyeon, holding her to your chest, she stopped crying. It felt just as natural holding her in your arms as it did holding Renjun’s hand. And as Renjun wrapped his arms around you both, pressing a tender kiss to Jiyeon’s forehead and then to your own, you felt a warmth spread throughout your body. You felt wanted and loved. You felt good.

“Dada.” Jiyeon babbled and stared at her father like she hadn’t just said her first word. Renjun’s mouth dropped to the floor and once he overcome his initial shock, he smiled wider than you’d ever seen him smile. You gasped, giving her a gentle squeeze and rubbing her head with one of your hands.

“Yeah dada! Oh baby girl you said your first word!” He pressed another kiss to her forehead, and she let out a soft laugh, kicking her legs out in excited at Renjun’s reaction.

“Dada!”

“My heart.” You cooed and pouted at her cuteness, feeling proud of her even though she wasn’t your child.

“I’m so glad her first word was dada and not Nana, I would have actually beaten Jaemin to a pulp if she’d said his name before mine.” Renjun chuckled and held you both tighter. He felt something blossom inside of his chest when he held his girlfriend and his daughter in his arms. He felt a natural feeling of wanting to protect you both and give you all the love in the world he had to offer and, in that moment, he knew that it was his purpose, his responsibility. 

---

A/N - Howdy, this is the third and final part to Renjun’s part of the bad boy series. What did you think? I’d love to hear your thoughts and feedback! The more feedback I get, the more content I create :) Thanks for reading and giving me support, I appreciate it with all my being. Oh, also, thank you @cheertaeil​ for helping me out with the idea for this one! Love you <3

[marina-roslinka]

This is my first time writing something like this, so it's a little bit sht, but I'm posting it anyway since I promised it to you guys. 

Michael, Trevor, and my rant.

The first thing I want to say about those characters is that I believe they meant to be together, they cannot exist without each other. Yes, I know it sounds like cheesy line from romantic novel. But before you roll your eyes, let me explain.

Let’s remember their signature colors: blue and orange. You see, I think they play a big part in understanding them as individuals and as a relationship and their dynamics. You can read about the color analysis here if you like to.

I personally want to look at it from a little different perspective. To be more precise about elements Fire and Water: Trevor represents fire and Michael is water of course.

Those two men have a different understanding of what life is supposed to be and what it means to be alive. Trevor being a fire element is always trying to rile up Michael, making him angry and emotional like himself.

Michael on the other hand obviously thinks that Trevor is too much, that he needs to calm down and too bright, too hot, that eventually, he will burn not only himself but also everyone else around.

We see examples of that a few times throughout the game. For example when he tried to convince Trevor to change his current lifestyle and “grow up” and it’s not good for him.

“M: Alright man, here we go. Tough love time. T: I'll take it tough, I'll take it sissy, I'll take it any way you're giving it. M: When you gonna get it together, bro? Most guys as they get older, they pull their foot off the gas. T: You always did like to judge people. M: I ain't judging, I'm trying to help. T: Help with what? You think I need help 'cause my lifestyle is worse than everyone elses? M: The speed, the horniness, the killings. T: You kill, and you satisfy your urges - only you think you're above everything. Tough love time! M: Fine. Fine! You think what you like. But you know I care, and you know I tried.”

Going back to the whole "They can't exist without each other" thing.

Why?

Too much fire you will burn. Too much cold, you will freeze. This is the exact reason why I think that they need each other. To create a balance. Again, you can clearly see this in the story. Michael is depressed, sad and bored out of his mind by the pool.

Trevor is crazier than ever with no direction and no purpose. Just pure chaos.

“T: Mas o menos. Michael didn’t have a nerve back then. I didn’t have a direction”

It’s obviously not perfect since they both are fucked up people.

You can describe Michael's attitude towards Trevor with the same example. You can love fire for numerous reasons, right? You can look at and feel calm, feel warm or maybe it helps you to reflect on yourself. However, fire is also very dangerous. It can be unpredictable. One spark can light the fire and it may not even possible to stop it.

But Michael is able to.

Throughout the game Michael said and done things that made Trevor very angry. Like, other people would have been dead angry. He can make him change his mind or even stop him from killing someone. Because, as I said, he represents water.

This is why I believe that Michael’s fear of Trevor is not usual. He is afraid of those big sparks that out of his control like when he betrayed him for example. He was afraid Trevor would find him and kill him. Part of him believes he deserves it because of all the guilt. Trevor is the face of karma and he came back to collect the debt.

However, thirty seconds in the car since they left the house he felt that everything is ok and that he is not in any danger so he had no problem with insulting and overall being an asshole to Trevor right away.

Unfortunately things not that easy and simple as always. They can be good for each other just as bad. Fire can be dangerous to water and water can be dangerous to fire. (This is why Trevor doesn’t like to take showers xD) It reminds me of all those scenes when they get angry at each other, but stepping away so they won’t hurt one other.

I am going to leave Fire/Water here, just keep it in mind for the rest of analysis or whatever this is. I’ve never done it :D

Now for the ultimate question. Do I think they love each other or they hate each other?

Well… Just as their history together it's complicated.

The very moment Trevor pulled the trigger of his flare gun with no hesitation, Michael definitely knew that Trevor is a dangerous person. Then he definitely knew Trevor has serious mental issues.

Why did he stick with Trevor before and even after? Well, the most obvious answer is that he just cares about him. They instantly clicked together or as Lamar said “Love at first sight”.

The other thing that played a part in Michael’s affection at the start is that Trevor is like a shining loud toy for Michael's brain. I see M as someone who grasps at every opportunity to experience intense emotions. Trevor is like a walking time bomb that won’t explode around you. It also perhaps made Michael feel special. It’s not healthy but happens to people nonetheless.

I believe that Michael does love Trevor, but he also hates the things that he does and Michael hates himself for still loving someone like Trevor.

“Why do I love him why do I care for him, I'm not supposed to. He is a horrible person. He is a monster. What is wrong with me?”

The other thing is very common for people to have desire to help another person who's hurting. No matter how much messed up they are we still can feel sorry and I'm sure Michael felt the same and still feels the same. This also leads to his frustration about Trevor.

“Why can't you be normal? I had a hard childhood but I didn't turn out that bad”

He’s also repressing his feelings because of internalized homophobia. In addition, it's just frustration on top of frustration on and on.

Michael hates himself for many things he's done. When Trevor came back he got so overwhelmed that all of this just start boiling inside of him. And when you can handle it he just surrenders to the common emotion – anger.

(It seems to me that fans expect Michael to figure out why Trevor is doing this, why he says that what real feelings are behind the words and actions. You know, be the wise one. )

At first glance it may seem that Michael does not care about T and I can see why. Since the game does it like we see Trevor as the one who tells the truth and Michael as the one who lies. Especially on the first playthrough you can easily fall for this little manipulation. Because of this we perceive Michael as a liar. I mean, yeah, he uses lies as a defense mechanism. Therefore, it’s natural for us (and Trevor) not to believe him when he said “I care. I missed you”.

Trevor is a liar too. Yes, I know, shocker.

The most common thing I see people say about Trevor is that he is a loyal person. All because of this rule about “brothers”. Nope. Maybe he likes to say that, but in reality he is not.

Take Brad as an example. Bless him.

Trevor talked about how he planned to stop working with Michael, but pushed him away because he thought he would leave him. If you hang out with Lamar, T admits he was literally going to kill Brad. Not like Michael of course. He wasn’t gonna stab him in the back. Just stab him in the face I guess.

Trevor didn't kill Michael, not because of some creed. It’s just because he still loves him and cares about him. In the core of everything it’s just love.

Trevor is obviously a dick to Michael because he's hurt so much. Can you imagine how painful it was, to lose the only person you loved and loved you back? Then to find out they betrayed you. Like, Trevor literally thought, Michael was using him from the start. Though, he doesn't hate M, like he said so many times. Trevor hates himself for being this way, for being not good enough, for Michael to choose him. Again and again.

Betrayal.

“M: I don’t know, man, I’ve made such a mess of things. Constantly…my whole life. Chase things. Get them. Hate them. Chase things, get them, hate them…”

I feel like often people don’t even consider Michael's feelings or mental issues. Trevor also says very hurtful words to M. Yes, he understands the reason behind Trevor’s anger, but this doesn’t negate the fact those words hurt a lot. I mean, he was even offended by the fact T didn’t hug him. As usual, he cannot cope with feeling of guilt and everything again comes down to aggression.

I also want to remind, that despite the killings, Michael didn’t abandon Trevor. He was even letting him to see his children. Also name Tracey is suspiciously similar to name Trevor. Isn't it a display of love? Can you imagine how many times Michael forgave T for doing something crazy?

Well, Michael was just afraid of Trevor hurting him or his family if he tells T they’re done.

Trust me, if M didn’t give a shit about his best friend, he would’ve just killed him.

However, Michael and Trevor's relationship before Ludendorff wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows.

I personally think there were four main reasons:

    1. He was just tired of living the way he did.     2. Safety of his family.       3. The FBI breathed down their backs and suggested him a ticket to freedom.

 In fear of losing Michael Trevor pushed him even more. Most likely thought their relationships could only last if they were connected by the partnership. An example of this is Trevor’s negative reaction to Michael's words that he wants to be done with robberies and make movies.

  “T: I could feel like I was losing you, so I pushed you harder. I thought that how to keep you in the game and I didn’t want to lose you. I’ve said it already, haven’t I?”

 4. As ironic as it may be, in the desire not to lose Michael, Trevor himself turned out to be the last drop, for his best friend’s decision.

Conclusion: they should stop being dumb-dumbs and be honest about how they really feel.

And therapy. A lot of therapy. 

[jdramione]

My 2nd Story Rec:  Tripwires by Mandarou @end-o-the-line https://archiveofourown.org/works/7262188/chapters/16488682

I read Tripwires a few years ago for the first time and I’m positive that in the process of reading this story, something in my chest cracked completely in half and I was left... broken.  

This story captivates me in ALL the ways.  I just finished a re-read of it for the billionth time, and again, I’m just absolutely moved by it.  The story is deep and incredibly moving.   There are scenes within this story that leave me brokenhearted and wrecked.  I feel every single thing that Steve feels, and the way this author writes truth and emotion and angst - few writers can even begin to compare.  

This story is one of those that just feels... more.  You, the reader, are along for an emotionally angsty ride that far surpasses words on a page.  In many ways, this story is just... everything to me.   With every new story I find and give a chance to, this is one that gobsmacked me the first time I read it.  I think I walked around in an emotional mess for days after I read the last line.  Broken, put together, laid out bare.  It did all of those things to me and more.  How?  How does an author incapsulate these things and make them flesh?  Reading this story puts you in this magical world of angsty storytelling perfection that you could ever hope to find, and when it takes you there - those places, that are deep within and hurtful and painful and it just sinks its teeth into you and you can’t help but go - yes, thank you god, finally, someone has managed to put feelings into words and express these things I’ve never managed to figure out within myself but here they are and I’m staring at them and I can barely breathe.   It leaves you breathless for more.   And still, I’m not even talking about the sex scenes.  Which are epic in all proportions, sexy, perfect, humbling.  MORE.   There is this one poignant moment, and don’t ask me where because I’m gonna be vague and the last amount of spoiler-y as one can be when making a list of favorite moments.  But there is this moment where Steve slides down a door, to his butt, and is just torn up (as am I EVERY TIME I read this tiny moment) and Bucky, cool as you can be, as present as one can be fully in love but remaining arm-length apart.  And they both press the side fo their faces to the wall looking at each other, talking to each other quietly.  And it feels so big, the emotion.  It fucking hurts.   "You’re thinking too. hard, Stevie.”  -- Fucking kills me.  Breaks my goddamn heart. “Howard was my friend,” Barnes whispered. “No words will ever be enough.” -- I’m dead.  Broken. WHY is Bucky humming the HOTTEST THING EVER in this world?  How did I never find humming so sexy in any other fic?  Bucky hums through this story and it’s beautiful and sexy and so RIGHT and in character that it leaves me melting into romantic goo every single time.  And it’s literal “humming.”  I recognize the ridiculousness of this paragraph.  But WHY does it do all the things to me? I HATED Clint the first time I read it.  And then I loved him so fucking much.  And he broke my heart.  Never have I ever read Clint characterized exactly like he is in this fic.  I understand him, I get it.  But he breaks my heart.  And then I’m so glad he’s there for Bucky.  It’s such a mixed box of feelings.  The moment where Tony actually walks Clint down to his motorcycle - why does this little thing ruin me?  I think it’s because you know so much that Clint is so angry on Bucky’s behalf, and yet there is Tony, in the wrong, and knowing he’s in the wrong, but goes down to shake his hand goodbye.  There is respect there, and I would like to think still love between them all.  But everything from “Mercy” on left me laying on the ground in the middle of the road, dead. That scene.  I won’t even go into it.  Read this fic you guys.  OMG.  I could hardly read I was sobbing so much.  In my bedroom, on my computer, like a little child with a broken heart, sobbing.  How did this author do this to me?  And thank you so much.   The rooftop scene with the cigarette.  God, the characterization here.  Bucky understands Steve so deeply.  And Steve, desperately attempting to grasp onto his feelings, to figure out his anger, and grief, and heartbreak, and love.  There is so much to unpack, and the author does it one shirt at a time out of the suitcase.  Or rather, I guess the metaphor works better if instead of “unpacking” the reader is “packing” one shirt at a time, until the suitcase is full, like your heart, like your mind, and everything clicks and puzzles together and makes sense.  And it’s not all perfect and right, but it will be.  Always and Forever. I think I need a tattoo of it, I think.  OMG.

I truly did not expect vulnerable Tony.  And he’s vulnerable in a completely different way than Steve.  Steve is heartbroken, and that makes him vulnerable.  Bucky is protecting himself, vulnerable that way, and yet so strong.  But Tony, probably the oldest in age?  No, Bucky would be oldest.  But in all the ways, the characterization of Tony in this story makes me feel he is the young one.  I love how he and Bucky are together.  Tony and Steve - they make sense.  Steve and Bucky, though.  There’s something truly precious there. It took me a while to understand Bucky, and when I finally did, it was like I’d been hit over the head with a club.  Like a stone dropped in a well, and I felt it go through me.  Terrible metaphors - but it’s so heartbreaking... it’s so sad.  There is such... loss.   “Bucky would always choose Steve. But Steve . . . Steve would always choose the right thing.  So Bucky had to have a buffer.” - That’s it in a nutshell.  Kills me dead.  The insight is so spot on, makes so much sense, and is heartbreakingly accurate.

“A whole year.”  Kills me every time, and I cry with Steve here.  Every time. The betrayal of protection and assuming.  That pretty much sums up everything that hurt me so much, so deeply, in this story.  On all sides.   “Check him,” Bucky was shouting. “I hurt him. I know I hurt him. I had to hurt him.”  Dead. The moment of Steve’s “Wow.”  And then the cow.  Thank the fuck.  And also, OMG.  I was there.  Hanging onto every single word that Steve felt.  Forced outside, not knowing why he went outside.  Laying his head on Bucky’s knee.  I could read this scene over and over, and it’s perfect.  It’s just... sigh-worthy, cry-worthy, perfect. “Steve’s going to fall apart.” -- This scene read SO differently after the first time and makes me cry when I understand what is going through Bucky’s mind here.  I ADORE how the writer did this so incredibly well.  I have to know - was this scene planned ahead of time, or was it an afterthought and reference back to?  This scene, during a re-read, is just... everything.  This is where it all goes wrong.  The scene that you think is taking shape is not at all what is happening, and it’s just genius, writing of epic proportions and I just can’t even with it.  But it’s heartbreaking and then it’s heartbreaking, which feels worse - way worse in the end.  Mercy leaves me blubbering.  It’s my official breaking point in all of this fic.

I could truly go on.  And on and on.  I don’t know how this skillful writer put this story together.  Somehow, despite the heartbreak and the angst, and the... deep emotional and vulnerable shit all over the place that makes you sink and feel and need.... despite that - it’s funny in parts.  And so, so romantic.  Gentle caress, soft kisses, longing stares.  It’s a complete package, all wrapped up.  And few fics have ever taken me on the emotional journey that this story did.   What leaves me so gobsmacked is how I start the team feeling the utmost grief for all that is Steve.  And somewhere by the end, while I’m still feeling that same grief and heartbreak for Steve, Bucky tugs at my heart even worse.  His easy acceptance of “I love you always and forever, despite everything, forever, even if I can’t have you all to myself, I will always love you, even if you won’t love me back as much as I love you - and Steve just doesn’t understand and Bucky loves that part of him too.”  Just... HOW.  Stunning.  Brilliant.  Brave.  Hard.  Breathtaking.  Heartbreaking.  

It’s just MORE.  More than others.  More than maybe even itself.

It’s one of those stories that I have to have repeated inner debates on whether or not to search out a new fic or just enjoy immersing myself yet again into this visceral and lush world, where everything just fits, like the perfect puzzle piece. It all is described in such detail, you can practically taste the air, and the characters feel foundational in a way most stories lack because they can’t see them so wholeheartedly, in both their strengths as well as their weaknesses.  

To me, this is a core fic.  If you want a story that completely fleshes out ALL the characters, plot, and storyline - this is the one for you.  It’s angsty, so much so that one physically aches for these characters, but in that angst, it’s so gorgeously done that despite how much it hurts, you need more.

What inspires me to write?  Stories like this one, where I can live and breathe these characters in a world that was created exactly and perfectly for them.

If you have read it - let me know I’m not alone in my obsession.  If you haven’t, go READ this - including the INCREDIBLE timeline part 2 and then get back to me.  I need to fan-girl a bit on some of these authors, and need some friends who are along with me for the ride. At some point, I’ll figure out how to archive my story recs together.  But I want to give each rec it’s moment to begin with.  

[thorne93]

Inside the Criminal Mind (Part 41)

Prompt: You’re married to Dr. Spencer Reid of the BAU, and are a distinguished doctor yourself on the team. You’re sent down to Miami, Florida for teaching and as a side request from the FBI, to investigate a string of missing persons. When you think you’ve figured out who the unsub is, your life becomes more complicated than you ever could’ve imagined.

Word Count: 2388

Warnings: (throughout the fic –>) death, blood, gore, killings, language, disturbing mental notions, mentions of rapes/murder/etc (You know, Dexter and Criminal Minds related business)

Notes: Thank you so much to @arrow-guy, @carryonmyswansong, and @mrs-dragneel-stark-solo​ - without each of you, I couldn’t have finished, written, or properly navigated this story. Each of you helped me fish out details that were incredibly important to me. Beta’d by @carryonmyswansong and @mrs-dragneel-stark-solo… Aesthetic by @mrs-dragneel-stark-solo

This is a crossover of Criminal Minds x Dexter. First time writing Dexter.

Also, the timeline is after Season 1 of Dexter, but during season 14-ish of Criminal minds into Season 15. Enjoy!!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He picked up the phone, and dialed his number, letting out a breath before Dexter answered. 

“Hello, Doctor, what a pleasant surprise.” He smirked through the phone. “To what do I owe this call?” He teased a little but it was rather odd that the other man called.

“Dexter… Something’s happened to Y/N. She’s been shot. She’s in critical care. They…” He tried to stop his tears but he couldn't. “They don’t know if she’ll make it.” 

“What! What the fuck happened?” he demanded in a low, stern voice. He was livid. How the hell had you gotten hurt and with Spencer nearby? “Start talking, Reid. Is she okay?

“I’m not sure,” Spencer defended before the tears really started to flow. “I should’ve realized they were missing sooner. You might… you might want to get here though. I know she’d want you here… When she wakes up…” The sobs started to rack through him.

“I’ll see how quick I can get there, in the meantime I need you to breathe. There’s no use getting so overworked. That won’t help do Y/N either.” He huffed out. To think that you would get hurt while her husband was around. That was never an issue when it was just Dexter and you.. “Keep me posted on her. I’ll be there as soon as I can.” 

“I’ll keep you posted.” 

The two men hung up and after three hours, you were in your own room. You were stable, for now, but they said you may have sustained neurological damage that could lead to comatose, brain-dead, or even death. 

Spencer sat by your bedside, you were still unconscious. He tried to keep his breathing steady but sobbing continued to roll through him. He couldn’t help it. He could very well lose you and the last thing you knew was that he wanted to talk to another woman. 

“Y/N, I don’t know if you can hear me, the doctors told me you can’t hear me, but I’m going to try this anyway. I am so, so sorry for what I’ve put you through. I can’t… I won’t be able to live with myself if something happens to you and the last words that wer said between us were me saying I wanted to talk to Max and you thinking I didn’t love you. That couldn’t be further from the truth. I know Max is a sore spot for us and I was an iito to bring it up. It wasn’t until you said it today that I realized you’re right. The lying I did was beyond anything you ever did. The lying I did was a direct betrayal of our marriage, of our vows, and I can’t take that back. I guess, in my mind, all I saw was you had Dexter and you were so close with him, that it shouldn’t be any different for me.” He stopped, trying to catch his breath before a fresh new wave of tears came. “ But I see now  that it is very different. I was envious of your bond with Dexter, but I had no reason to be. You only hid one part of the truth about your relationship with him, and then you told me everything. As you said, your lie was a lie to cover up criminal activity.  But me… I did something much worse. I made it so you couldn't’ trust me. I made it so in your eyes, you’re no longer a priority. I can’t stand the fact that you think I don’t want you, but what else were you supposed to think? I wasn’t exactly trying out for Husband of the Year Award… And now… now I might lose you and your last thought will be you weren’t loved by your own husband… Please, come back to me. I can make this right. I will make this right, if it’s the last thing I do. All I need... is for you to wake up, to be okay.. Please… be okay.” 

That was all he could get out before the tears overcame him and he held onto your body for a long time. He had no idea how long he’d been crying, holding you, begging you to wake up. 

Later that night, Spencer heard someone nearly run into the room. He looked up to see Dexter there. 

“So much for keeping me updated, huh?” Dexter sounded irritated and winded. He moved to your other side seeing in just the condition you were in. “What happened?” he demanded in a firm tone. He was on edge, more so than he’d ever been. It cut at his heart seeing you lying there in the hospital bed like that.

“We’re trying to track down a con artist serial killer. His daughter shot at her and JJ. I wasn’t there. I was in a different garage.” 

“Jesus. Was she awake when you found her?” he wondered. 

“No,” he huffed out before crying. 

“What is it? What’s wrong?” Dexter asked. He could tell Spencer was partially crying from regret, guilt, not just grief. 

“We had a fight before she went into the garage. Maybe she wasn’t entirely focused… I don’t know.” He shook his head, letting his head hang and the tears freely fall. 

“Another fight? What the hell was it about this time?” It wasn’t a question, it was a demand. 

“I… I don’t know if she told you about Max or not, but I told her I wanted to reach out to Max again. The next thing I know, she’s screaming at me and…” He took a deep breath… “She told me that she felt like she was being strung along, because clearly I don’t love her anymore, so she just told me to divorce her and get it over with.” He hung his head, ashamed of repeating your final words, more ashamed at how they must’ve felt true to you. 

“Of course I know about Max. She called me crying one night about the whole thing,” Dexter coolly responded. “Who do you think was there to get her to calm down?” He took a step toward Spencer. “Do you have any idea how devastated she’s been since Max showed up?”

“Yes. I know I messed up,” he said, clearly upset as he stared down at you. 

“Messed up?” He’s clearly pissed. “That doesn’t even fucking describe half of what you’ve done to her.”  Dexter jabbed a finger at Spencer. “I’m the one who's been picking up the pieces of her shattered heart and putting it back together while you’ve been out playing house with someone else.” Dexter moved back to control his urge to hit the man in front of him. “Time and time again she’s come to me feeling like nothing she does is enough to get you to even bat an eyelash at her.”

Spencer shook his head, his hands stuffed in his pockets as he gazed down at you. “I never meant for her to feel that way. It just… it didn’t feel any different. Her friendship with you or my friendship with Max. But she made me see it today… She didn’t hide your bond. I did. I hid it because I knew what I was doing was wrong. I was flirting outside my marriage. I never once saw you and her flirt, or do anything outside of what your original intent was. You two truly were just friends… But I fucked up and took it a step further with Max and I… I can’t ever take that back. I meant what I said about wanting to still talk to her. I don’t think that’s a crime to want a  friend outside of all this. But I shouldn’t have been so stupid to bring it up this soon. I just wish she would know that I’d do anything to right those wrongs now…” 

“It’s going to take a hell of a lot more than just some pretty words to get her to be okay with you. She’s tried so many different ways to tell and show you but you didn’t give a rats ass about it you went off into the sunset with you so called friend and at every turn that Y/N made an effort to be with you… you ran off to Max. What we have… our relationship from the start was friendship; we were comfortable enough around each other to be honest. Yeah you did fuck up and I wouldn’t blame her if she chose to give up especially after today.” Dexter moved to sit next to you and began slowly caress your hair. He’d hope you would wake up soon. “This isn’t something that I can forgive easily and I know she won’t either.”

Spencer fell back into his chair. “She shouldn’t. I don’t expect her to. I expect to earn her back, if she’ll have me. At this point… I don’t know. That look in her eye I saw today. She was so… distraught, so hurt. In the moment, I had no idea what to say to calm her down, but I didn’t even get a chance.” 

Dexter sighed as he watched you sleep. “She once told me that she was more concerned with you ever thinking that she was capable of being unfaithful to you, than of the truth of her killing.”

He bobbed his head in response. “I know. She told me. I believed her too. She’s never given me any reason to doubt her love for me, ever. She has to see that I’m willing to do whatever it takes to fix this, to keep her, to win her back.” 

Dexter nodded, letting out a sigh. “That may be a long road,” he informed. “She loves you, more than I’ve ever seen anyone love anyone else. When we talked before you found us out, she spoke so highly of you. I never saw her more pained than having to tell you the truth of what she was doing. Even through all the other case bullshit, she only had that look of pure agony when she thought she was about to lose you. She gave up her freedom, her career, everything, just to tell you, so you wouldn’t think she was being unfaithful. That says a hell of a lot to me.”

“I know,” he agreed softly, feeling as if his insides were churning without give. 

“All I’m saying is you have a woman who really loves you. I see a lot of people in my real job and my side work and I don’t see that very often. Maybe one in a million do I see true love, and I’m not even sure if I believe in it. But if I did, if it was such a thing, I’d say you two have it. You just have to pull your head out of your ass and stop fucking around with other people.” 

“Yeah, I know. How do I win her back?” he asked, tears still running down his face. 

He shook his head. “I don’t know. Just be honest with her, and tell her you’ll try harder, but don’t be surprised if she’s not willing to listen. She’s bent over backwards to get you to retrust her and understand her and you haven’t repaid the favor.”

He swallowed, nodding, realizing he was right. He might lose you, either by the gunshot wound or by his own stupid actions, and he hated himself for both. 

The two men sat there another hour before you finally woke up. You groaned, feeling as if you’d been hit by a truck. 

“Wh--What happened?” you asked, coming to. You glanced around the room, and saw your husband’s tear streaked face, and your best friend looking worried but relieved. “What are you two doing here?”

Spencer grabbed your hand and held it. “Sweetie, you lost a lot of blood. You were shot. It was touch and go, but they said it was up to you to pull through.”

“You scared the hell out of us,” Dexter said with a smile.

“Sorry,” you quietly responded. 

“It’s all good. Just don’t do it again, okay? You mean a lot to a lot of people.” He glanced over at your husband. “I’ll go let them know you’re awake, so they can finish up the tests.” He patted your left hand, stood, and left. 

As soon as he was gone, Spencer raced back to your bedside, sitting on your bed. 

“Y/N, I am so, so sorry about what happened. You’re right. You’re absolutely right. About everything. It wasn’t just about me lying, it was what I lied about. I don’t know why it took me so long to realize that. But I have now. Max will never be a problem again. No woman will ever be a problem again. I love you and only you. If you still want me, I’ll spend the rest of my days making it up to you.” 

“Spencer, I--”

But he cut you off, his mouth was on yours quicker than you could blink. His hands in your hair, tangling his fingers there. This was familiar. This fire,this passion. You and Spencer loved hard, and you fought hard. You fought hard to keep him, but now it was his turn to fight to keep you, and he was prepared to do so. 

When he let you go, you were panting. 

“I didn’t expect that,” you admitted with a smile.

“I didn’t expect to almost lose you today. I was so scared. I was so worried that your last thoughts of me would be that I loved someone else. To think I love anyone else from you is the most absurd idea you’ve ever had.” he stroked your hair and smiled at you.

“Yeah, well, I wasn’t given a lot of proof to the contrary,” you fired back with a grin. 

“You will be. Just let me show you how much you really mean to me.” 

You nodded. “I will, of course I will. All I’ve ever wanted is you. I do everything in my life to keep you, Dr. Spencer Reid.” 

“Well it’s my turn to do the same, Dr. Y/N Reid.”

You smiled once more and he planted a chaste kiss to your lips before peppering several more on you. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tagging:

Forever Tag:

@essie1876​​​

@magpiegirl80​​​

@letsgetfuckingsuperwholocked​​​

@iamwarrenspeace​​​​​​

@marvel-imagines-yes-please​​​​​​

@superwholocked527

@missinstantgratification​​​​​​​

@thejemersoninferno​​​​​​​​​​

@rda1989​​​​​​​​​​

@munlis​​​​​​​​​​

@thefridgeismybestie​​​​​​​​​​

@bubblyanarocks3​​​​​​​​​​

@igiveupicantthinkofausername​​​​​​​​​​

@kaliforniacoastalteens​​​​​​​​​

@feelmyroarrrr​​​​​​​​​​

@kaeling

@friendlyneighbourhoodweirdo​​​​​​​​​

@damalseer​​​​​​​​​

@heyitscam99​​​​​​​​​

@yknott81​​​​​​​​​

@thelittlebigirl​​​​​​​​​

@glitterquadricorn​​​​​​​​​

@xxqueenofisolationxx

@little-dis-kaalista-pythonissama

@bittersweetunicorm​​​​​​​​​

@alyssaj23​​​​​​​​​

@sea040561​​​​​​​​​

@princess76179​​​​​​​​​

@thisismysecrethappyplace​​​​​​​​​

@sarahp879​​​​​​​​​

@malfoysqueen14​​​​​​​​​

@ellallheart​​​​​​​​​

@breezy1415​​​​​​​​​

@marvelmayo​​​​​​​​​

@paintballkid711​​​​​​​​​

Spencer Reid

@camigt1999​​​​​​​​​

@ultrarebelheart​​​​​​​​​

@lenawiinchester​​​​​​​​​

@esoltis280​​​​

ITCM

@arganfics​​​

@zozoleesi​​

[leonkennedystuff]

not alone (leon kennedy x reader)

[RE4!Leon]

Summary: wherein reader finally confronts leon about ada wong 

Warnings: angst

Part 1 of ?

hi guys! so this is my first ever original Leon content! I’ve been obsessing over him since RE4 but the RE2 remake just breathed new life into my already unhealthy obsession. hopefully you guys enjoy this little piece and please, please do feel free to send me some writing requests ! I’d love to generate more Leon content on here! 

The tears you were trying to suppress felt intolerably difficult to keep from spilling, the stinging in your eyes threatening to cascade down your flushed cheeks and show Leon just how much sadness and anger was erupting in your heart.

The argument you both had snowballed into a full-fledged match; your voices were raspy and strained from how long they’ve been raised at each other, filling the apartment you shared. At no point, though, do you think this will stop soon. Not with how stubborn he was being. 

It was crazy - how only he can make you feel this loved but also this worthless. You wish he could stop hurting you - this thing, this same issue, over and over again. All you wanted was to break the cycle, having felt suffocated even by the mere mention of her name. 

Ada Wong. 

God, how your blood boiled - she just couldn’t stay away. But the fact that Leon seemed unable to do so either absolutely made you see red.

When their paths cross, it’s as if he forgets he has you - his girlfriend of almost six years. It made you feel insufficient, like you weren’t good enough to keep his attention from swaying. It broke your heart in ways words cannot even begin to describe; all you ever did was love him, as truly, deeply and selflessly a person can love another person. 

What were you lacking? What did she have?

“You’re being so unfair, (Y/N)! If you can only hear yourself!” He berates, running an exasperated hand through his already disheveled blonde hair. He was clearly worked up with the whole situation - pissed off at how largely the argument escalated and how he was unable to see where you were coming from. 

For the most part - truth be told - he thought you were overreacting, your jealousy clouding your better judgement. It was ridiculous that you felt disposable whenever Ada came up on your pages. 

Can you really be blamed though? Especially when the reason for this mess was when you found out Leon had been secretly conversing with her after coming home from his latest mission? 

It was like the world tilted on its axis when you answered the call and that damned woman’s seductive voice rang through your ears. His betrayal created a rift that was just continuing to grow; you couldn’t look at him without feeling a terrible stab in your heart and this overgrown fight was only making it worse.

If you hadn’t picked the phone up, would he have told you? How long was he going to go without telling you? 

Your head throbbed trying to think of the answer to your questions - of convincing yourself that it would be the answers you wanted even though the worst came to mind. 

Despite all this, he still didn’t want to disclose to you what they’ve been talking about.

“Unfair?” You grit your teeth, incredulous at what he had just said. “I’m being unfair, Leon?! How would you feel if I went behind your back!? If I was hiding secrets from you with another man?!”

He shuts his eyes harshly, distress prominent in his strong features. He lets out a frustrated grunt. “Why can’t you just believe me when I tell you that the information is classified!” He snaps, moving forward. 

Leon was always very level-headed and calm, but he couldn’t help his small outburst. This fight, far by the worst you’ve both had in the entirety of your friendship and relationship, was taking it’s toll. 

He brings his hands down on the white counter top, the kitchen filling with the sound of his palms connecting with the marble. You flinch at the noise before glaring at him, the dam behind your eyes finally breaking.

Before you could try to stop it, tears leak in streams down your face as your chest started to tremble. “Was it also classified not to tell me you were talking to her? Or did you just want no one stopping you?” You retort, your voice being its lowest and softest in nearly an hour but just as harsh. 

You swallow the huge lump lodged in your throat, your hands unconsciously clenching as you look away from the bewildered man. You breathe out, not wanting to look at him as you asked your million-dollar question. “If I hadn’t answered, would I ever have known?”

Heavy silence shrouds the room as Leon remains mute. You peel your gaze away from the polished floor and up at him. You blink to clear your teary vision but seeing your boyfriend’s angry demeanor change into a softer, more remorseful one - a fresh wave tides in. 

You knew him way too well to know just by his body and expression that the answer was no. He didn’t have to say anything, nothing at all. Your heart was already twisting.

With his anger reduced to non-existence, his face drops at the sight of you crestfallen, his guilt biting at him. He watches helplessly as a fresh round of tears run down your cheeks, he aches to wipe them away and just hold you - to forget about this stupid night. 

There are a lot of things in your fucked up reality that he hated and seeing you hurt would be at the top of the long list. He breathes out, disconsolate and defeated, “(Y/N), she saved my life countless of times,” He tries to explain, feeling pathetic. The fire in his voice as cold as snow now. “I owe her mine,” He says, barely above a whisper. 

Although you were still trying to let everything process, you knew that he was right there - she did save his life more than once and that’s something you’ll forever be grateful for regardless of how you feel about her, but that wasn’t the real problem here. 

There was something deeper, and you knew for a fact that it wasn’t a green-eyed monster of jealousy. It was another nasty beast lurking in the shadows and you just want to know what you’re facing already.

Your voice gives in from exhaustion and heartache, cracking at the start of your sentence, wanting to end this - no matter how it goes. “Leon - just be honest with me, please.” You urge weakly, your eyes beginning to throb from crying so much. You steady yourself, wiping gingerly at your face and holding it in your palms for a few seconds.

Lowering your hands, you felt ill just getting your sentence out. “Do you have feelings for her?”

It felt like another eternity that he was silent. When you hear him sigh slowly though, the kind before a bad news was going to be delivered, your blood runs ice-cold. You shake a bit.

“S-she’s like a part of me I can’t let go,” He finally confesses, finally tearing your heart apart. “But it’s you I love, (Y/N). You’d have to be crazy not to believe that.”

You barely heard the last part of his talking. Your face scrunches, like an invisible hand just slapped all the feeling off your skin. Your breath was painful in your throat and you felt like you were going to choke. You were light-headed, nauseated with the betrayal.

‘She’s like a part of me I can’t let go.’

Who would’ve thought?

You quickly gather up the last of your wits to will yourself to move, to walk upstairs and grab some clothes and leave the place with some shred of dignity- maybe for a few days, maybe never honestly. Where were you going to go though? You didn’t know either. You couldn’t think or function normal, not when you felt stripped of anything and everything. 

He loves you? If he loves you so much, he wouldn’t have caught feelings for another woman. A woman he met in a day while you, years before.

Once your body obeys your commandment to move, you swiftly turn for the stairs, not caring that you’ll have to pass him. Leon takes a frantic dash towards you, hooking his grip gently but firmly on your arm. “Wait, where are you going?”

Without looking at him, you pull your limb back from his hold. You try to ignore the wounded look in his beautiful blue eyes from how harshly you recoiled from his touch. “I can’t do this,” You croak, shaking your head. “I have to leave, this isn’t good for me or for you.”

“Leave?” Leon’s face blanches, his thoughts going haywire at the thought of you gone. You were leaving him? No, it can’t be. You can’t. He was a fool - yes - but he knew that the sun rose and set with you and you only. Ada - she was manipulative, but she saved his life more than once and they’ve witnessed hell together - their experience in Raccoon City set some kind of attachment between them. 

It was his fault, though, for letting that attachment cloud his vision at times of what was really important. You.

“(Y/N) -“ He starts but you cut him off.

“Save your breath, Leon.” You dismiss the conversation, approaching the staircase a second time. He follows behind you, alarmed.

“Let’s talk about this. Just calm down, please,” He stammers slightly, trying to keep his calm despite his racing heartbeat. “I’ll tell you what you want to know. Please, just stop.”

A momentary feeling of solace washes over Leon as you turn back to look at him. His chest, though, feels like a thousand pounds when he sees your purely heartbroken state.

“What is there left to talk about? I’ve heard your piece and I don’t need to be reminded that she’s some part of you you can’t seem to let go. You don’t know how helpless I feel, Leon, that another woman is living in your heart with me.”

“She doesn’t -”

You shut your exhausted eyes, repined and extremely tired of hearing his empty reassurances. “I understand that you’ve been through hell and back with her, but it’s been years since Raccoon and you still can’t give her up. That says more than enough.”

[jayyrayy90]

I'm so angry and disappointed. I'm so frustrated with my own self too bc no matter how hard I try I can't even force myself to hate you. I have numerous reasons to hate u but I can't. I guess I'll never be able to.

What's so fucked up to me is how you can just erase me like I'm nobody to you. How you can flip a switch in your brain and I've suddenly become your enemy. How you so easily can make so many promises to me, how you can look me right in my eyes and lie to my face so easily, and how you act like you've done absolutely nothing to me or act as if the things you done were something insignificant and dumb and I'm just being overdramatic about them. Like the shit you did shouldn't matter just bc of shit i did 5 years ago or simply bc u hated me so those things were justified.

To this very day you have no respect for me and treat me as if i meant absolutely nothing to u. I don't think you will ever understand how bad that hurts me Jasmine. You, of all people in this entire world, broke me down piece by tiny piece until there was nothing left of me. You drained me of my last bit of sanity, hope for love, and I will never let another human being get close to me again as long as I'm here on this earth. You took all of that away from me so effortlessly, carelessly, and easily. I never meant anything to you and I wish like hell I knew exactly what made u hate me so much that you'd even consider doing the things you've done to me.

In some sick and cruel way, I believe u got some kind of enjoyment out of watching me fall apart. You enjoyed knowing you could go do whatever you want and come back to me whenever you got ready bc like a dummy I'd always be there waiting. I was so stupid and foolish to even think any of your promises were sincere. What made me look even dumber was the fact that I believed you and in you. I had faith in you. I was so gullible and blinded to believe that the person you used to be was still somewhere inside of you. That loving, honest, sincere, faithful, and LOYAL person u used to be had been dead and gone years ago and you kept showing/proving that to me. Yet i kept fighting to bring her back. I kept praying, hoping, and wishing that someday I'd get my baby lovey bear back. I failed to even try and believe the things you were so effortlessly trying to tell me with your actions. You've been trying to tell me that you didn't love me anymore for so many years. I was trying so hard to be/say/do everything you wanted just to make you love me. I pushed the things you were doing to me so far in the back of my mind that i allowed myself to become blinded. I just kept telling myself that you were lost and didn't know what u were doing at the time, every time I would think about the things you did.

Truth is, you knew exactly what you were doing. You knew exactly what risks u were taking. U knew exactly what u were jeopardizing. You knew. Yet you still did it anyway. You didn't care and still don't about what happens to me or my life. You have no idea the amount of pain that causes me. Its honestly like I'm loving the shadow of a person who never existed.

The way you left me, I would've never left you like that, even if i did hate you. All those years we spent together and you just leave me like that knowing I was broke. I would've never in a million years plus some, NEVER left you like that. I would've bet my entire life that you wouldn't have ever done that to me.

When you came back in my life, the one thing you would always say was, "The way I left you last time was fucked up and I know it. I got my karma. I'd never leave you like that again." Something similar to that anyway. But guess what, you left me even worse than you did the first time Jasmine. And u don't even care. How can you not even care?!! I have no words to even describe the pain. Words couldn't even come close..

In the beginning i wasn't much of the person I should have been. I had issues and addictions. I wasnt really worth your time. I put you through hell and for that I will forever be sorry. If im being honest you terrified me, no one had ever saw me the way you did. No one had ever wanted me the way you did. No one had ever made me feel the way you did. I had walls that had always kept me safe and kept me braced from the world but you... you somehow made them fall over time with your undying love for me, even when i was awful. You saw me through the worst times of my life. If not for you i wouldnt be here today. you saved me.

To me, we had a beautiful bond and an amazing love. You were everything i ever wanted and i couldn't believe you were mine. Maybe looking back that is where the trouble started...I had such guilt for who i was and how i treated you at the start and i felt so lucky to have you that i started to compromise on the things that were fundamental to me. I started to give way more then i received and i started to let you think things were okay that honestly weren't. I let you start to walk all over me and looking back maybe if i had stood up for myself then, instead of just feeling like i owed it to you for sticking with me then maybe things would be different today..

I stood by you, i did any and everything for you. I let you take out your anger on me. I would pretend to sleep until i knew you were asleep so i could just make sure you were okay. I was watching you hurt in a way i couldnt fix. I didnt know how to help, so i decided to just be everything and anything you needed. I put my entire life aside and made you my priority, my world. I dont regret it, you needed me and i was there without question.

This is where it started to go downwhill, you were changing into someone i didnt even recognize and the worst part is you couldn't even help it. Our life had become one full of fights and make ups only to fight again shortly after. You were pushing me away and i didnt know why. I dont even think you knew why, so i took all the hateful words, the poor treatment, the lack of time invested and the lack of love being shown and made it into excuses for you because of what you were dealing with. Looking back i dont think this helped you the way i thought it did. It taught you that i was always going to take it. I was going to let you walk all over me and i was going to apologize when i didnt do anything wrong simply to avoid a fight. It didnt help, you left me in such an agonizing way. i was shattered, my entire life had just fallen apart and i was lost. You were my world and you were just gone!!

I was your friend. I was your family. I was your lover. You are a person that could have been any number of things to me. Heartbreak plays no favorites when it chooses people in life to let you down. I really always had faith in you. I trusted you and the promises that you made to me. I believed in your aspirations and disregarded your ambiguity. I let you in, against my best wishes. I relentlessly defended you. I saw the beautiful parts of who you were. I made plans with you and kept them in my head like a guaranteed magnificent destination.  I loved you. I gave you all that I had and now I am left feeling empty and cheated. But do you know what the strangest and most unbelievably frustrating part of all of this is? I forgive you.

Your betrayal shook my foundation. Not just the foundation of us, but the foundation of everything I thought. All that I believed about love was up in the air. I wasn’t sure about anything. It wasn’t just about you. I was now questioning everything.

The truth is, you didn't really love me. Maybe you loved the idea of me. Maybe you loved having me around because I would have done anything for you, but if you really loved me, you wouldn't have destroyed me the way you did. That's not love.

I loved you so much that I lost sight in everything else, especially myself.  I glued myself to you so tightly because I was so terrified of losing you. Lets be honest though, you were never really mine to lose, were you?

You always treated me so coldly, and I couldn't ever understand why when all I ever did was love you. Sometimes the harsh words you used still stay inside of my head.

I was never good enough, or at least that is how you would treat me. I was always wrong, I was the crazy one after the break up, it was never you. It was always me. You were poison to my heart, and I wanted so badly to save you, but I couldn't. You destroyed me mentally and emotionally to the point where I can’t even feel emotions anymore. To the point where I am literally completely numb to feeling anything or having real true emotions towards anyone or anything.

When I met you, I knew. I knew in some way, shape, or form, you would hold incredible significance to my life. I knew you were going to be a constant. I knew you would change me.

Yes, we had our disagreements, but we always made our way back to each other. I always felt you in my heart, there was nothing you could do to make me that upset for long. I already needed you. I knew, the second I held you close to me, I knew, that this was it for me. You were it. All I wanted, and all I would ever need.

You have issues, my love. Internal struggles with yourself, external issues with your family and others around you ­and it weighs you down. I never have held that against you. But the struggles you faced made it impossible for you to love me the way you wanted to, the way I needed you to. Still, I held on, praying you would stay with me, praying you would get better. Through all the fights, the petty disagreements, and the abuse, I stayed. Why?

I loved you blindly of course. I loved you without restrictions, and without caution. I loved you wildly. In my head, I knew you could be better. I wanted to see that happen for you. I wanted to help you get to where you should be. I believed in you. I loved you so deeply, I would have, and did do, anything on Earth for you.

The truth is, you are not who I once loved. That person is gone. That person took some of the deepest parts of myself with them. I will always love them.

Had you tried for me, love, had you tried for you, we would have been in love forever. But you didn’t, and sitting around waiting for you only made things harder on me. I’ve accepted the fact that the you I once knew is gone.

I didn’t want to move on from you. I hoped in the deepest cell of my heart that you would come back and sweep me up and make things better. But eventually, I chose to move on. I chose to heal myself. I chose to fix what you shattered. It didn’t come easily, and nearly everyday is a struggle… but I have to. You are the love of my life, but you are long gone now...

[getaroomyouheck]

wrote a review for Hospice by The Antlers

(little precursor to this review, it's rather emotional and personal, maybe also upsetting, kinda stream of consciousness at points too. so a warning in advance) The beginning to 2020 has been one of the roughest moments of my entire life, honestly speaking it's the most aimless and fucking lost I've felt in a while. My grandfather essentially gave up on living and now simply just sits and waits for his eventual death, taking a toll on me, but specifically my mom. Having heard her anger but eventually just simply harrowed emotion of seeing her father at this state. Alongside this, I've almost felt momentary lapses of reason, moments where I feel back in my hollow shell of a body left behind by ones who hurt me in my past, people i once called friends as well as my abusive ex-girlfriend. Broken promises, lies, empty betrayals, actions that left me afraid of human touch. Combined together, the past month I barely even felt like myself, just a shell of who I should be. Yet at this endless sea of wander, I've come to realize something. Something that has helped me begin to finally feel like myself again. Something that I would've only found through the help of this album. So, I want to talk about it, and really go into what it means to me Hospice is, at it's core, an album about abuse, trauma, and the psychological reparations of broken relationships. From the first words sung on Kettering to the final refrain of Epilogue, this albums breathes and bleeds raw emotion as it's main sense of catharsis and sense of meaning. The concept of this album is one that's simple enough to grasp, our narrator (I'll call him Peter since the lead singer of The Antlers is named Peter), is a nurse at a hospice. He falls in love with Sylvia, a woman who is fatally dying of cancer, and the album from Kettering to Epilogue explores their degrading love, her abuse towards him as she withers, and her eventual death. The conceptual narrative to Hospice is one that, while strong and fully developed across the 10 songs present, is second-nature to why this album hits as hard as it does. Where this album hits closest to me, is in how uncompromising its portrayal of abuse, toxic love, and psychological damage on a fragile mind, ends up being, that is what makes Hospice stand above most of its contemporaries. The prologue to the album, while a beautiful instrumental chop that sets the mood, to me, isn't really where this album begins. The true beginning, lies in our 2nd track. Kettering Within this bubble of echoed piano chords, comes our first signs of what's to come. Peter's frail, broken falsetto's, speaking over what little he knew getting into this relationship. It's a unceasing icy reminder of anguish, each hit of the chord being another lie told, another object thrown, another vicious word spat out in agony, all containing this soft yet obvious punctum to their hits. In this dirge of utter misery, Peter spills out from his heart true bleeding words of what abuse really represents. You wish you knew what you would've gotten yourself into when you became a piece of this other persons life, you wish you had the foresight to know you're just one person, that you can't save them from their own demons. Yet, you still try anyways, in an unceasing hope that you might just be able to bring them closure. From Kettering onwards to about Shiva, we get more of a standard fare of what was presented prior There's an inquantifiable amount of depth I can get into. How Atrophy perfectly captures the justification of abuse from the victim, showing what it means to accept ones abuse as a warped sense of adoration. How Bear is a dichotomy of a soft, broken lullaby alongside this crashing chorus of fuzzy guitars, accurately representing the broken home a child would grow up in. How Two is a horrifyingly real portrayal of the false world and broken promises made manifest into a reality crafted by the abuser and the victim, the private life of suffering never to be seen. And especially, how Epilogue painfully captures the cycle of abuse and the clammy throes of falling for the lies and soft words of your abuser simply to let them hurt you more. Yet, the song I want to discuss the most here, is Wake Wake is, a song I can't fully even begin to describe. The sound of this song is haunting to the fullest degree. The lifeless breaths of a dying corpse always cutting through the lowkey instrumentation to which Peter lays bare the reality of being alone as his abuser has left him. This song sounds almost like a suicide note, like a final recording before taking ones own life. The pulsating, rythmic drumbeat feels as if it's a heartbeat, ready to cease on a lifeline. Layered vocals represent that of a Wake, the social circle around a funeral. It's steeped in the clammy hands of death and throes deeply in the jaws of abuse, the breath of death is fresh always present on the words Peter sings. Yet, lyrically, it doesn't mean that at all. This song is not a cry for help, but rather a championing cry for learning to open about the pain inflicted to you, that it's ok to speak, that some people can't be saved, but that's not your burden to bear. It all crashes into what is maybe one of the most powerful moments in all of music to me, one that without fail, makes me cry. Peter, repeatedly, with more and more strain and power to his voice, screams out "Don't ever let anyone tell you you deserve that" as it all washes away in this final maelstrom of emotion. The crashing cymbals, the layering ascending horns, the cutting piano chords, the choired vocals, this song is the beginning of letting go of the anguish that's festered deep inside you. This song, after 8 songs of utter pain and abuse, being hurt and apologizing to the one hurting you, is representative of finally beginning to realize what you had was broken, but accepting it's ok to find someone to listen to you, and finally taking that step forward. Finally, walking out that door, letting people in, and beginning to accept what you are for who you are. This song, to me, helps represent the emotions surging through me as i finally began opening up to my friends and current girlfriend about how I was emotionally abused and sexually harassed by my ex. How I began to trust and learn to accept the touch of another human. How I learned to realize I'm more than just what she saw me as. Wake is more than just a song to me, rather Wake is the culmination of learning to move forward from grief and toxic love, and try to begin again, maybe wishing you could change the past, but willing to move forward all the same This is what Hospice taught me, and what truly clicked with me as I listened to it this past month and a half. As much as I may want to, I can never go back in time and change the mistakes I made in my youth. I can never go back and stop myself from making friends with people who would only feed into my depression and suicidal ideation. I can never go back and stop myself from dating someone who would end up nearly raping me. I can never go back in time and speak with my grandpa before he gave up on his own life. But, what I can do, is move forward in spite of this pain, in spite of this grief, and learn to love again, to laugh again, to trust again, to continue facing forward anything that may ever face me. Hospice taught me that while I may have endured anguish, I'm still here despite it, and can still keep moving forward. That this burden isn't mine to brunt alone. That it's ok for me, to let people in Favorite songs: Kettering, Sylvia, Atrophy, Bear, Two, Wake (standout), Epilogue Least fav song: N/A

[skylightsofmylife]

1-86 pleaseeeeee

1. Are looks important in a relationship?

Nope. I’m demi so it’s all about personality

2. Are relationships ever worth it?

Most definitely

3. Are you a virgin?

Take an educated guess based on my girlfriend’s post

4. Are you in a relationship?

Extremely happily so

5. Are you in love?

Hey babe! Are we in love? I forgot. 

6. Are you single this year?

I can’t see the future but I seriously hope not, I’m kinda smitten with this girl who sends me asks…

7. Can you commit to one person?

Prefer to actually

8. Describe your crush

Oh, let’s see. She’s a dork, with a sense of humor, has the most adorable smile, always knows how to cheer me up, might have a really hot haircut or something???

9. Describe your perfect mate

Kitten (She knows what this means)

10. Do you believe in love at first sight?

Love is blind, she don’t work based on sight

11. Do you ever want to get married?

If the moment felt right, yes. *adds honeymoon to gift registry* 

12. Do you forgive betrayal?

Regrettably, yes *massive eye roll at self*

13. Do you get jealous easily?

I might have a little bit of a green monster in me, *green monster shouts* a little, who are you trying to fool

14. Do you have a crush on anyone?

Does a bear shit in the woods?

15. Do you have any piercings?

Yeppers, pretty sure I’m naked enough on here you can find it easily

16. Do you have any tattoos?

A phobia of having ink on my skin keeps me from getting them

17. Do you like kissing in public?

Babe, we are still making out in the middle of the airport next time right? 

20. Do you shower every day?

Yes, in the tears of my enemies, mwahahahahha, again, who am I kidding. It’s my own tears cause I have estrogen coursing through my veins

21. Do you think someone has feelings for you?

She better for making me answer all of these

22. Do you think someone is thinking about you right now?

*sends nood to GF* yep pretty sure someone is

23. Do you think you can last in a relationship for 6 months and not cheat?

What even is this questions? If you can’t do this may I suggest polyamory my dear

24. Do you think you’ll be married in 5 years?

I honestly don’t know, it’s something I have resisted for a very long time but recently my feelings have changed on it because of someone

25. Do you want to be in a relationship this year?

I hope so being I am

26. Has anyone told you they don’t want to ever lose you?

Ditto baby girl

27. Has someone ever written a song or poem for you?

Poem, yes. Does a theme song count?

28. Have you ever been cheated on?

I’d have to resort to calculus to get the exact number of times it’s happened it’s so numerous at this point

29. Have you ever cheated on someone?

Per the previous question, I know how much it hurts first hand and could never bring myself to inflict that kind of pain on someone

30. Have you ever considered plastic surgery? If so, what would you change about your body?

*Giant book thuds on counter* Story time children. I’d have my nose thinned and shaven down, chin rounded and cleft removed, hairline rounded, ears pinned, love handles removed, maybe boobs just to round them; don’t really want bigger. Having the major one I want in two days. 

31. Have you ever cried over a guy/girl?

*gets out the tear bucket* oh, we come prepared around these parts. Flooding and leakage is imminent 

32. Have you ever experienced unrequited love?

Maybe, idk. I have a rather unique experience that keeps me from falling in love with people who don’t feel the same

33. Have you ever had sex with a man?

I wish I could say no

34. Have you ever had sex with a woman?

Girl what that tongue do? 

35. Have you ever kissed someone older than you?

Yep. 

36. Have you ever liked one of your best friends?

Like, all of them

37. Have you ever liked someone who your friends hated?

Probably, in high school

38. Have you ever liked someone you didn’t expect to?

Oh definitely. But usually that ends up being your best friend

39. Have you ever wanted someone you couldn’t have?

I honestly don’t know if I couldn’t have her… just never asked

40. Have you ever written a song or poem for someone?

Lots of poems, had an ex that loved them so I would leave them as notes on my pillow since I got up way earlier

41. Have you had sex so far this year?

Just a little bit

42. How long can you just kiss until your hands start to wander?

What are we counting as wandering? Touching hips/waist, not very long. Anywhere else I can make out for hours without hands roaming.

43. How long was your longest relationship?

3 years (woot for psychology being so predictable for the end of the honeymoon phase)

44. How many boyfriends/girlfriends have you had?

Not many actually. Discounting the one I was in against my will, 3.

45. How many people did you kiss in 2012/2013?

Why y’all gotta pick my hoe/college years?! Give me a sec to count… 8?

46. How many times did you have sex last year?

Not a lot… Maybe 10 times? It’s somewhere around there. (All with the same person mind you)

47. How old are you?

Some would say I look good for 428

48. If the person you like says they like someone else, what would you say?

Good for them honestly. I’ve been in this situation but I always put other peoples’ happiness before mine. 9 times out of 10 I end up helping them get with the person they like

49. If you have a boyfriend/girlfriend, what is your favorite thing about him/her?

She keeps me grounded. No matter what she can always make my darkest day brighter just by being there. (Also the hair)

50. If your first true love knocked on your door with apology and presents, would you accept?

Nooooooooooooooooooooooooooo! Leave the gifts, don’t let the door hit you on the way out. Oh, and let people decide things for themselves

51. Is there a boy/girl who you would do absolutely everything for?

Mostly anything, yes

52. Is there anyone you’ve given up on? Why?

I wouldn’t say given up but more so realized we were fundamentally different people and things would never work between us

53. Is there someone mad because you’re dating/talking to the person you are?

I mean probs. Maybe not mad but there’s definitely someone jealous out there

54. Is there someone you will never forget?

Yes, friends I have had to move away from due to mental health issues

55. Share a relationship story.

Jess, just read our texts. Everyone else, Jess is reading our texts

56. State 8 facts about your body

Pokemon #188

57. Things you want to say to an ex

If you’re going to cheat have the decency to break up with your partner first or be able to admit your wrong instead of finding flaws in your partner to exploit and make them feel like it’s their fault

58. What are five ways to win your heart?

Be easy to talk to, have emotional intelligence, love me for who I am not what you want me to be, make me laugh, *cough cough - cover your eyes children* make me moan loudly (sorry, not sorry)

59. What do you look like? (Post a picture!)

https://www.tumblr.com/blog/skylightsofmylife search #me

Jess, just look at your photos

60. What is the biggest age difference between you and any of your partners?

7  years

61. What is the first thing you notice in someone?

The way they talk

62. What is the sexiest thing someone could ever do for/to you?

Whisper in my ear what they want to do to me (unless they are a stranger then it’s creepy, cause both have happened)

63. What is your definition of “having sex”?

Oral or anything that penetrates (that includes fingers and toys)

64. What is your definition of cheating?

Anything beyond non-sexual flirting

65. What is your favourite foreplay routine?

Oh goodness, babe here’s your playbook. Shove me against a wall, throw my hands above my head, kiss my mouth just a little then go straight for the neck. Once you’ve done that for a little, take a hand and put it under my shirt and scratch (HARD) from my under-bust to my pant-line. Take me to a bed and push me onto it rather hard, straddle me kiss my mouth and neck some more, whisper what you’re going to do next in my ear, take my clothes off, kiss my breasts and stomach, after that a little gently play *down there* and I’m yours. 

66. What is your favourite roleplay?

N/A

67. What is your idea of the perfect date?

Backyard movie date; with a sheet, projector, and a picnic basket

68. What is your sexual orientation?

I put lesbian in my bio because it’s easier and I only date women/non-binary/gnc. But the whole thing is demi pansexual, homoromantic. 

69. What turns you off?

Weirdly my biggest turn off is getting my hair wet. No idea why

70. What turns you on?

Running a hand up my inner thigh

71. What was your kinkiest wet dream?

I’m honestly not sure… my sex dreams often include consent cause it’s a big deal to me so they typically don’t get far because that’s the majority of it

72. What words do you like to hear during sex?

Fuck, that feels amazing, don’t stop doing that *moan*, my name, Jess knows the last one

73. What’s something sweet you’d like someone to do for you?

Buy me an outfit just because they think it would look cute on me

74. What’s the most superficial characteristic you look for?

Smile?

75. What’s the sweetest thing anyone’s ever done for you?

Found a private showing of my favorite movie on Valentine’s day

76. What’s the sweetest thing you’ve ever done for someone?

Probably cooked a 3 hour meal just because I knew they liked it that much

77. What’s your opinion on age differences in relationships?

So long as it’s legal and consensual I really don’t care. I personally will not date beyond the 7 years I’ve already done but that’s just a personal choice

78. What’s your dirtiest secret?

Probably my needle fetish

79. When was the last time you felt jealous? Why?

About 5 years ago. My ex was leaving me for the person they said they had no feelings for

80. When was the last time you told someone you loved them?

Like an hour ago

81. Who are five people you find attractive?

Jess, Jess, Jess, Jess, and Jess

82. Who is the last person you hugged?

My mom

83. Who was your first kiss with?

A narcissist who ended up using me in the end so I’d rather not name them 

84. Why did your last relationship fail?

Because I wasn’t cis-enough

85. Would you ever date someone off of the Internet?

Oh hey babe!

For real, fuck you Jess. I’m packing now. Unless you wanna do 65…..

[thorsdiana]

Infidelity (Bellona x Mars)

Word Count: 949

Warnings: infidelity, abuse ment.

A/N: lol no one asked for this but i really felt like writing something related to bellona?? and since i have no inspo to update the actual fic, i felt like writing something from her past. so what better thing to write about than her leaving her terrible husband?? and i didn’t proofread this at all lmao.

There were no words that could describe how she felt. It was one thing to hear whispers of Mars’ betrayal. She could always ignore them, tell whoever was saying such a thing was a liar. Thinking that they were jealous of their union. She could try to ignore it all she wanted, but seeing it was different.

She watched the way he looked at her, at Venus. There was a softness in his eyes that Bellona had never seen, not once in the hundreds of years they’ve been together. The way he held her, his touch so tender and gentle. The way he smiled when she spoke, becoming completely entranced by whatever left her lips. He treated her in ways Bellona had never seen.

He had ruined her in every way possible. He had ruined her spirit, making her feel as worthless as the dirt she walked on. His infidelity did nothing to his reputation, but destroyed Bellona’s. She became known as a wife who couldn’t please her husband. She became a joke, whispers about her were told all around Olympus.

She sat silently in their bedroom, waiting for him to come home. She had no idea how many hours had passed since the sun set, but she didn’t care. She wanted to catch him coming home. She wanted to give him hell. She wanted him to feel pain, even if it was a fraction of the way he’d made her feel all these years.

Finally, she heard the sounds of heavy footsteps. It was only a moment after that when Mars opened the door, stiffening when his eyes locked with Bellona’s. He was expecting her to be asleep, that’s what always happened. She’d be fast asleep, giving him the chance to casually slip into bed as if nothing happened.

“What are you doing up?” He asked, forcing a smile as he approached his wife. He leaned down, trying to meet her lips, only for her to turn her head and his lips brushed against her cheek. His brows furrowed at her actions. Her eyes met his once again, becoming daggers.

“I could say the same about you,” she challenged. She tilted her head, noticing the faint color of lipstick on the color of his white shirt. Bellona let out a dry chuckle, bringing a finger to the stain. “You’ve been busy, I see.”

Mars was quick to slap her hand away, his eyes becoming harsh. His breathing quickened, and his eyes narrowed as his stare became intense. “Don’t start this,” he threatened. He moved to their dresser, pulling and disregarding his shirt before looking for another one.

“This is YOUR doing!” She snapped, standing from the bed as she followed after her husband. “You are the one who’s been sleeping around. Being foolish enough for everyone to see how weak their precious God is.” Mars’ head snapped back as his eyes met hers once again. The anger in his eyes only fueled Bellona further.

“You’ve made a promise before the Gods years ago. A promise to love me, faithfully, until death. Yet here you are, sneaking around with Venus,” she chuckled dryly, shaking her head. “Falling for her charms and becoming nothing more than a conquest to her.”

Her words made something in him snap. His hand came in harsh contact with her cheek, a sting ringing all throughout his palm. Bellona’s hand covered the forming red mark, tears building in her eyes as she looked up at her husband in horror.

“That promise meant nothing,” he spat. “You’ve done nothing for me, produced no children. You’ve suffocated me with your sadness and I’m tired of it.”

“It meant everything to me!” She yelled, her voice trembling. “I’ve been trapped in a loveless marriage, trying my best to please you. To please my father,” her voice was cracked, hot tears falling from her cheeks. “I’ve given up the chance at love and for what? A lying, cheating, and cruel husband?”

She had given everything for this marriage. From the start, she never wanted it. It was all a set up her father created, believing that something beautiful could come from their union. But all it did was create something terrible. Mars was no longer the man she knew. The way he treated her, talked to her. He did things no husband should do.

And she was done with it.

She wasted no time standing to her feet, pushing past the monster that stood before her. She gathered a bag and began throwing any important things inside.

“What? You’re just going to run away from your problems? Such a cowardly thing, Bellona,” he snarled. Bellona ignored him, continuing to pack. Her silence only infuriated him further. He approached her, placing a hard grip on her shoulder. She harshly shrugged his hand, turning and pushing him away with such force, he flew into the wall.

“Don’t you fucking touch me,” she warned, her eyes flashing with a fire Mars was all too familiar with. “Lay another finger on me and I’ll kill you where you stand.” Mars took a step away from her, allowing her to finish packing her things. She placed the bag over her shoulder, eyes meeting his once more.

“I will not stay here, allowing you to make me the joke of Olympus. Be with your harlot, I don’t care. But you will no longer hold your control on me.” She took a deep breath before leaving. She wanted to be far away from here, from Olympus. She wanted to be in a different world entirely. But there was only one place she could think of; Midgard.

It would become her new home, her chance to start over.

[rahirah]

via Barb's Place OK, guys, normally I try not to publish things which are this rough, but fuck it, it has been YEARS and I feel like I owe the six of you who are still hoping to read the rest of POM someday something. So here is the crappy first draft of Ch. 14, scene 1. (If you feel like leaving critical comments, please do. It needs savaging.) As Tara collapsed into Willow's arms, the silver cross, still straining at the end of its chain towards the stone, collapsed with her. Only a necklace again, and not the needle of Angel's moral compass. Buffy snatched it and held it tight, till her palms ached where the metal dug into the flesh. She could almost imagine the cross burning her hand, as if she were the vampire. Angel wouldn't, couldn't be doing the things Spike had described if he still had a soul. He might be infuriatingly high-handed sometimes, but he wasn't some kind of undead Don Corleone. Okay, fine, he'd basically put out a hit on Spike last year, and there'd been that whole episode with Resurrected Darla – she was certain she didn't know all the details there, and was even more certain she didn't want to – and that thing with the submarine, though Spike wasn't the world's most reliable narrator where Angel was concerned, and that had been forever ago and Angel had been really depressed back then and it shouldn't count, should it? And anyway, he'd said he'd had an epiphany, hadn't he? Buffy forced herself to take a breath and relax. Or to take a breath, at least. Damn Angel anyway. There was a corner of her heart that would always be his, just as she suspected that a corner of Spike's heart would always belong to Drusilla, so why couldn't they both just stay in their respective corners, safely cocooned in nostalgia? It would make life so much simpler. Everyone else was still arguing. Giles, bless him, had intercepted Kennedy and the Finns, but Dawn pounced on Spike with the speed and ferocity of Miss Kitty hunting the wily laser pointer. "Come on, spill! What plan?" "Doesn't bloody matter what plan, because it's bugfuck insane, and we're not having it." He really wasn't at a hundred percent yet. Insane plans were the last thing that was likely to put Dawn off. Her sister folded her arms and raised an eyebrow. "You do realize that this is the twenty-first century, and I can just, like, phone Cordy and ask her what it is?" Spike's jaw worked, and he glanced up at the ceiling and then over at her, as if imploring the heavens and the Slayer in order of importance. Buffy sighed. "We kinda used her for First Evil bait last year, Spike. The protect-poor-innocent-Dawnie ship has sailed, lost radio contact, and disappeared into the Bermuda Triangle." "I miss the days when a bloke could cut a sodding phone line," Spike muttered. "All bloody right, here's the gist. Chase had the idea this Burkle chit can use Dawn to pop into another dimension, where we'll conveniently run into no slavering monsters whatsoever, traipse across the landscape without falling into any inconvenient pits of molten lava, and pop back into this world in the Hyperion's safe. Then she fancies we can drag this Gunn bloke back the in same manner as whence we came, no doubt scattering sodding rose petals in our wake. I told her — " "But I can do that!" Dawn exclaimed, whirling on Buffy. "You know I can. I got us to Pylea and back last summer! We could drive close to the Hyperion as we can, cross over into the other dimension, hike to the spot where the Hyperion would be, cross back into our world, rescue the prisoners, and cross back to the World of No Slavering Monsters to get back to the car, and then cross back into our world again." At Spike's dubious expression, her own grew obstinate. "Seriously, how is this worse than you sneaking in and out of Angel's hotel through the sewers, which are definitely full of slavering monsters?" You had to admit Spike was giving it the old college try. "And supposing we miss the safe? Pop out in the middle of the lobby? Or the middle of a wall?" "You said Mr. Tanner's with them, right?" Dawn replied, smug. "He's a geomancer, remember? He specializes in topographic magic. I'll bet he can come up with something to get us to the right spot. I'm not dumb. I know this is going to be dangerous, but you need me. It's not like I'm going on some solo mission here. I'll be with you and Buffy, and Faith might even get here by then. All I'm going to do is stand around and exude Key vibes while you guys make with the punchy-kicky." She looked Spike in the eye. "I did fine in Pylea, didn't I? If this was some random nest of vampires..." "But it's not." Buffy hated the brittleness in her voice. "If Angel's really... it took everything I had to beat him last time." More. "You have a lot more now than you had then," Dawn said, her voice softening. "You're only alone if you want to be, Buffy. Let me help. Please." She'd had help last time, too. How could she explain to Dawn that the memory which haunted her nightmares even now was the result of that help: the look of stunned betrayal on Angel's face as she plunged the sword into his heart? If Willow had called his soul back five minutes later, or half an hour sooner... Dawn had never known that particular flavor of heartbreak. She took her sister's hand. "Thanks, Dawnie. But – " "No buts. I get it," Dawn said with the certainty of someone who didn't. "You have all this romantic baggage, and Spike has all these weird-ass vampire daddy issues – " "Oi!" "Well, you do! But you guys have fought demons, and wizards, and gods. I'm not saying Angel isn't a badass, but repeat after me: He's only a vampire." Spike's lips twitched in a rueful smile. "Bit might have a point, love." Rats. She did. Buffy grimaced. "You're not supposed to be the insightful sister." "I've always been the insightful sister." Dawn let her go and bounced back with a grin. "So I'm coming with you, right?" "You're coming." Buffy straightened. "OK, people. Spike and I leave for L.A. tomorrow morning. Kennedy, Willow, Tara, Giles, you're all with us – we'll take two cars if we have to. Riley, do whatever you need to to get your people there, and let me know when you'll arrive. And make sure they know not to randomly stake anything with fangs. Spike's called in some favors from the local vamps, and while I'm not gonna cry bitter tears if some of them come home in a Dust Buster, I don't want to waste troops. We won't know how many of them will keep their word till they actually show up in L.A., so Xander, can you and Anya stay here and coordinate things with David, and let us know how many are coming and when they'll meet up with us?" Xander nodded; if he was disappointed not to be tagged for combat duty, he didn't show it. "Anya and I can pack up the weapons and supplies tonight, if you want to get some rest, Buff." Buffy shot him a grateful look. "That would be great. We'll talk to Cordy in the morning about someplace to stash any allied vamps. Riley?" Riley exchanged a look with Sam. "We've got some fast talking to do with Headquarters. I'll keep you updated." Team Finn rose in tandem and headed for the door. Giles, having assessed the population of Casa Summers and deemed it excessive, was phoning a hotel. Willow was fussing around with Tara, and – "What are we going to do with Grandpa when we get there, Slayer?" And Spike was looking at her like he expected her to have an answer for that. Maybe she did. "After we catch him? We can enroll him in Riley's chiphead program if we have to. At least until we find out what's going on." Spike frowned. "You think a chip in the head's gonna be enough? For Angel?" How was this even a question? "It was enough for you. And it's only temporary." "It was an excuse to hang about in your general vicinity. Not that I'd have admitted as much at the time." His tone was serious; Spike wasn't even trying to pick a fight, damn him, and she really wanted to punch something in the nose right now. "Angel, he won't put up with it, not for the pleasure of anyone's company." Buffy choked back a bitter sound halfway between a laugh and a sob. "'A more permanent solution,' huh? Maybe everyone's right. It took me... so long, last time. To... do what I had to. And people died for it. I can't let that happen again. But I can't..." The words dried up in her throat, too painful to force out. "All of you want me to kill him, don't you?" She was shaking. "So easy for all of you to say, because he's not your friend or your lover. Well, you know what? Screw that! Drusilla's up there with him, and I haven't once questioned that you'll be able to handle her!" Spike's eyes flashed yellow for a second, but he didn't rise to the bait. Maybe his L.A. adventure had really knocked some restraint into him after all. "Yeah, well, maybe you should. I promised you Dru's ashes once, if ever you gave me a crumb. P'raps you've noticed that she's not actually a big pile of dust yet, for all I've gotten the whole sodding cake by now." His shoulders drooped. "Fuck it all, pet, I don't want you to kill him. I hate his sodding guts, but he's family. It's just... you keep talking as if you can fix him. What if there's nothing to fix? What if he really has just stopped trying?" "Then we convince him to start trying again. We didn't give up on Willow when the First had her, did we?" Spike stood silent for a moment, his bright head bowed. Then he sighed. "Fair do's," he said. Whatever that meant. "You know I'll back you, Slayer. I've got no doubts you'll do as you have to. Whatever that turns out to be. Just needed to have my say first." The unshakable confidence in his voice was... not cheering, exactly, but something. She laid her forehead against his shoulder, saying with touch what couldn't be said with words. After a moment his arm snaked around her shoulders, and she felt the uneven rise and fall of his chest gradually match the rhythm of her own breathing. She wondered if he even realized that he did that. "I've got to get some sleep. You coming up?" He glanced across the room. "Up in a mo.' Want a word with Tara. Bird's had a rough night of it," Join the club. "OK. See you in a bit." It occurred to her, as she climbed the stairs, that if the worst ever happened between the two of them, Spike would see that final stroke from her hands as an affirmation rather than a betrayal: a little gesture to show that she cared. Which was weird and sick and vampirey, and also... strangely comforting. No wonder Angel was convinced she'd come back from heaven wrong. TBD comments

[illyrianbeauty]

A Not So Chance Encounter: Chapter 10

Rhys is persuaded to attend a fundraiser by his cousin Mor. He didn’t expect to meet the girl of his dreams.

Fic Masterlist

Writing Masterlist

Chapter 10: Shit Hits the Fan

Rhys peered at his watch and frowned.  5:15 pm.  Feyre had mentioned earlier that she was available today and would be stopping by the office to fill out some paperwork.  He glanced at the corner of his office at the stack of papers neatly labeled Feyre Archeron.  Normally Cerridwen, the head of the HR department, took care of all the new hire paperwork.  However, this wasn’t just any new employee. This was Feyre.  Who hadn’t come by the office yet.  Or answered any of his texts.  He glanced down at his phone for what must have been the hundredth time.

Prince Prick: Hey Darling! Just wondering what time you were stopping by today. Maybe we could have lunch. Let me know!

Prince Prick: Any idea what time you’ll be coming?

Prince Prick: It’s almost 4.  Still think you’ll be coming by today?

Prince Prick: Everything ok?

Prince Prick: ??????

Still no response.  What the heck? This wasn’t like her.  Sure, she didn’t respond right away if she was in class or at work, but she would always text back eventually. This total lack of communication on her part had him unsettled.  By the end of the evening, he was concerned.  Two days later, he was nearly out of his mind with panic.  

Prince Prick: Mor, have you heard from Feyre at all? She was supposed to come by Monday to sign paperwork and never showed up. She’s not responding to any of my texts at all. I’m freaking out here!   

The Queen: I haven’t heard from her since the weekend either. It's not like her…

The Queen: I’m worried about her!

Prince Prick: What should we do?

The Queen: Let me handle this. I’m going to text her in the group.  

Rhys ran his hands through his hair and tried to calm his wildly beating heart.  There were a number of reasons why she wasn’t answering her texts.  Not many of them were good.  He tried not to dwell on all of the worst case scenarios that were running wildly through his mind.  

The Queen: Fey, are you ok? Text me back ASAP

The Queen:  Feyre, what the hell? Why aren’t you answering your texts??

The Queen: By the Cauldon Feyre! If you don’t respond to this text in the next 5 minutes, I’m calling the police and reporting you missing!

Feyre Darling:  What do you want Mor?

Rhys instantly felt some of the fear ebb away when she finally responded. The edge to her words, though, still had him feeling wary.  

The Queen: Well, first of all, I want to know why the hell you’ve been ignoring our texts.  Then I want to know why you haven’t gone to Velaris to fill out your paperwork.

Feyre Darling: And you think that’s any of your business because….?

Rhys didn’t know what it was, but it was obvious that something had happened to upset Feyre to this extent.

The Queen:  What the hell, Fey? What is going on with you?

He felt like his entire life was hanging in the balance as he waited for her response.

Feyre Darling: The 3 of us need to talk. Tomorrow. Rita’s at 5.

The Queen: I’ll be there.

Prince Prick: We’ll both be there

This has disaster written all over it. Fuck. Rhys had learned throughout the years that when a woman says ‘we need to talk,’ nothing good ever comes out of it.  He would understand if Feyre had changed her mind about working for him and decided avoidance was the best solution.  But she had no reason to be upset with Mor.  What the hell had happened?        

***

The next day dragged by at a snail's pace.  Rhys wasn’t able to concentrate on his work at all.  His thoughts constantly circled around Feyre and the conversation he was about to have with her and Mor.  Not being able to sit around his office any longer, he left and headed for the bar.  He arrived at Rita’s half an hour early and claimed a booth in a quiet, secluded section of the bar.  He didn’t have to wait long before Mor joined him, carrying two bottles of beer. She handed one of the bottles to Rhys and then plopped down on the bench beside him.  “Any clue what this is about?” she said by way of greeting.  

He signed and pinched the bridge of his nose, “I have an idea.”

“Tamlin,” she spat out.

“Yup.”

“Fuck.”

“Yup,” he agreed again.          

They sat in silence, nursing their drinks, as they waited.  At exactly 5, Feyre walked through the door.  She glanced around and, after spotting them, marched up to the table. She took a seat on the opposite side of the table and stared them both down with a hard glint in her eyes.  Rhys had never seen her look so unfeeling. So… cold.  He cleared his throat, unsure of how to begin.  

Mor, apparently, had no such issues and jumped right in with, “So, we’re here.  Care to fill us in on what the hell is going on?”

Feyre’s eyes moved away from Mor’s and locked onto Rhys’s.  She squared her shoulders and said determinedly, “Did you offer me the job just to piss off Tamlin?”

What. The. Fuck.

“No. Why the hell would you even think that?”  Feyre didn’t seem satisfied with his response.  She crossed her arms over her chest and raised an eyebrow expectantly.  He stammered, “Velaris was struggling to make cover art that made a few particularly picky authors happy.  I offered you the job because you are an amazing artist and I thought you could help the company.  Tamlin had nothing to do with it at all.  Nothing.”

“But you know him?” she demanded.

Lucky. They were so incredibly lucky.  It seemed as though Tamlin hadn’t told her much. At least he hadn’t told her a bunch of lies.  Asshole.  He answered, “Yes. I’ve known him since we were boys.  We used to be friends.”  

Feyre turned her gaze to Mor and asked furiously, “Then why the hell didn’t you tell me?” Not allowing Mor enough time to respond, she continued, “Cauldron, I’m such an idiot. I should have known something was up.  All those times I tried to get you to meet him but you just refused.  I mean, typically people want to get to know the person their supposed best friend is dating.”  Feyre’s face was flushed in anger, her mouth a small, grim line.   

Mor’s face had gone extremely pale and she looked on the verge of tears. She rested her hands on the tabletop and said quietly, “I’m sorry, Fey.  I should have told you sooner.  You are my best friend.  Please don’t ever doubt that.”  She took a deep breath to steady herself and then continued, “I didn’t know that you were dating Tamlin until a few months after we had already gotten to know each other and became friends.  When I found out you were with him, I panicked.  I didn’t know how to tell you any of it.  It’s a long, complicated story.”       

“Then uncomplicate it. Now. You owe me that much.”  Underneath all of the anger and iciness, Rhys could see the hurt in her eyes.  The feelings of betrayal.    

“What exactly has Tamlin told you?” he asked delicately.

Feyre huffed in exasperation, “The same as you two idiots. Nothing.”

“How did you find out then? About us knowing Tamlin that is?” Mor asked tentatively.

Feyre gave her a piercing glare and then sighed heavily.  After heartbeat, she admitted, “I was excited and told Tamlin about the job offer.”  She leaned back into the seat, seemingly making herself appear smaller.  “I was expecting him to be happy for me, or be supportive at the very least.” She closed her eyes as if recalling something painful.  “Instead, he became… angry. I don’t think I’ve ever seem him like that before.”

Rhys felt his blood turn ice cold. “What happened?” he demanded.

Feyre deigned to look at him and snapped, “After Tamlin bit my head off, he forbade me from working at Velaris.”    

Rhys balled his hands into fists as white hot anger surged through him.  Of course he had forbidden her from working for Velaris.  Tamlin, who saw people as either pawns or possessions, would always seek to control her.      

Mor asked incredulously, “He forbade you?”

“Don’t, Mor.  Just don’t.” She silenced Mor with a vicious glare.  “Tamlin said that he didn’t want me to have anything to do with either of you ever again.  He said, and I quote, ‘Rhysand Nos is an arrogant, condescending whore who’s only interested in fucking you.’  He wouldn’t tell me anything else about your history with him.”  

Rhys felt his rage rising to the surface.  At the same time though, he felt as if he had been kicked soundly in the balls.  “Do you intend to follow his orders?” he drawled, careful to keep the full extent of his anger contained. The thought of never talking to her again, never seeing her again…

She sneered, “Do I look like the type who tolerates taking orders from anyone?” 

Whatever tenuous hold Mor had on her emotions broke as she flung herself onto Feyre, sobbing, “Oh, thank the Cauldron!  We’re still friends, then?”  

Feyre hugged her back, saying, “You’re both idiots. But, you’re my idiots.  Of course we’re still friends.”  

Rhys’s unease alleviated a fraction of a percent. He watched Mor release Feyre and wipe the tears from her eyes.  He gave Feyre a half smile and batted his lashes, “So you forgive us, then?”

Feyre glanced between him and Mor and snorted, “I wouldn’t go straight to forgiven.  I’m still pissed as hell at the both of you.”

Rhys smirked and inquired, “How did you leave things with Tamlin? I doubt he’s very happy you’re meeting us right now.”

Feyre rolled her eyes and spat, “Prick.” She heaved a sigh and continued, “We came to an agreement, of sorts.  I can work for Velaris... as long as I do so from home.  While he doesn’t like it, he does agree that it is a good opportunity for me.  And about us being friends- I told Tamlin in no uncertain terms that he had no say in the matter.  I don’t control who his friends are and so he had damn well better give me the same consideration.”     

Rhys had to admit, listening to her describe how she stood up to Tamlin was pretty damn hot!  He simpered, “Well, that’s a relief.  Cauldron knows how much you would miss me.”  

“Oh, shut up, Rhys!” she said with the tiniest hint of a smile.  As their regular, teasing relationship returned somewhat back to normal, Rhys knew he would do anything he could to keep her from looking at him with hurt and betrayal in her eyes ever again.  

He knew it was coming, but he still flinched when she said, “Tell me everything. Please. I need to know.”     

Mor looked at him and gave an encouraging smile.  He steeled his nerves and began, “My mom, Rhoswen, was an amazing woman- kind, loving, generous.  Everyone loved her.  I mean, you heard the way Cass and Az talked about her.”

“She was more of a mother to me than my own was,” Mor interjected.  

Rhys nodded his head in agreement, continuing, “My father, Gwydion, was the complete opposite.  He was cold and vicious, even to his family.  While growing up, things at home were always better when he wasn’t around.  Which, due to his job, was quite often.  I never really understood why my mother stayed with him.” He shrugged his shoulders saying, “I think she was grateful for everything he did for her when they were younger.  She came from an extremely poor family and he helped put her through school.  Gave her a way out of a bad situation.”  

He had always thought his mother had deserved better, though.  Better than the arrogant, mean ass his father was.  He shook his head, trying to get this thoughts back on track.  “Anyways, my father and Tamlin’s father, Oddvar, started off as business partners.  They actually got along pretty well at first.  Tamlin’s mother, Anja, and my mother met at some business party and became friends.  Since Tamlin and I were around the same age, our mothers arranged playdates for the two of us.”

Rhys smiled sadly as he reminisced.  “I remember that first time we met.  We were about five or six at the time.  Our mothers sat of the couch drinking wine and gossiping, completely ignoring us boys.  Tamlin and I didn’t know what to think of each other at first.  We kind of sat around for awhile ignoring each other.  That is, until I brought out my ninja turtles and asked him if he wanted to play.”

Mor scoffed, “You realize how dorky you were as a child, right?”

“Oh please. Cass was the dorky one.  Anyways, after that we were inseparable.  He was my best friend for years.”  

Rhys took a deep swig of his drink, needing a moment to collect himself.  Feyre’s face was unreadable.  He wasn’t sure how she would react to the next part of his family's history.  Not seeing an alternative, he continued. “I was about 11 when things changed.  My father and Oddvar had a disagreement about the direction in which to take the company.  It turned ugly.  My father ended up leaving and starting up his own.  Unfortunately, it didn’t stop there.  Gwydion and Oddvar did whatever they could to sabotage the other’s companies.  They were cutthroat and vicious.  Soon, our mothers weren’t speaking either and I wasn’t allowed anywhere near Tamlin.  I didn’t see him for years until we ended up at the same high school.  I was thrilled to see him that first day.  Az and Cass were in the same year as Tamlin and I.”  With an involuntary roll of his eyes, he continued, “I thought it was going to be an amazing.  I could just imagine all the trouble the four of us could cause.  Things didn’t work out quite like that.”   

“What happened?” Feyre asked with narrowed brows.   

He ran a hand through his hair again. Cauldron, he was going to go bald soon from doing that.  Rhys straightened his shoulders and confessed, “His father was even worse than mine, if that’s possible.  I think that Tamlin wanted to impress him.  Hell, I don’t know. Maybe he just believed everything he had heard about my family at that point.  Anyways, Tamlin made it clear that he didn’t want anything to do with me, Cass, or Az.  He took it upon himself to continue the family feud our beloved fathers had started.”               

Rhys, realizing his beer was empty, flagged down the waiter and ordered another round.  As the waiter leff, Rhys continued, “Tamlin made it his personal mission in life to one up us.  He tried to make us look bad in everything from grades, to sports, to even girls.” Rhys felt a little sheepish mentioning that last one, but he wanted to be honest with her, seeing that Tamlin wasn’t. “It turned into an ugly, stupid competition. Us versus him.”

“Yeah. A stupid pissing contest that led to a number of fist fights, if I remember correctly.” Mor added with a roll of her eyes.

Feyre’s brows lifted in surprise. She asked, “You? The nerdy pretty boy got into fights with Tamlin?”

Rhys tried not to blush at her words, but he felt his ears turn hot as he purred, “So you think I’m pretty, hmmmm?”

Feyre scoffed, “Don’t try to change the subject with your indecent flirting, you prick.”

He couldn’t help but notice that he wasn’t the only one turning a little pink in the ears, though.  Rhys was surprised to find himself laughing, considering the topic they were about to broach.  His thoughts were interrupted by the waiter returning with their drinks.  He gratefully accepted the drink and downed half its contents.  Mor placed a reassuring hand on his.  Thank the Cauldon she was here.  

He removed his hands from the table and gripped the edge of his seat.  He took a unsteady breath and began telling the final part of his family history.  “Near the end of my junior year, there was an awards ceremony for all of the businesses in Prythian.  Both my family and Tamlin’s family were invited.”  He was holding onto the seat so hard that his fingers were turning white.  “The police reports said that Oddvar had been drinking heavily before getting behind the wheel of the car.” He heard Feyre gasp but he ignored it.  If he didn’t finish soon, he wouldn’t be able to.  “He swerved and hit the car next to him, sending both cars in a ravine.  Tamlin’s mother, father, and brothers were killed instantly.” His voice caught a bit as he said, “My mother, father, and little sister Prydwen were in the other car. All three were killed as well.”

Feyre covered her mouth with her hands.  She shook her head back and forth, as if trying to deny what he had said.  Her voice broke as she said quietly, “I’m so sorry, Rhys.”

Mor stood up silently and sat on the bench next to him, resting her head on his shoulder.  Rhys was more grateful for his cousin being there then he cared to admit.

“Tamlin and I were playing in a soccer game at the time.  It’s the reason we weren't there with them at the time.  They all had left the party early to go watch us play,” Rhys admitted with an edge to his voice.     

“But I don’t understand. If Tamlin’s father had caused the accident, why does he hate you so much?” Feyre asked hesitantly.                            

“He blames my father for the accident.  Gwydion ended up being awarded some fancy trophy over his Oddvar. According to Tamlin, his father wouldn’t have been drinking at all that night if it wasn’t for my father,” Rhys said bitterly.

“Tamlin actually said that?” Feyre gasped in shock.

“Yup.  Right before he punched me.”

“What the fuck,” Feyre said slowly.  Her face was deathly pale and she looked about a heartbeat away from fainting.  

“It was in the hospital after we had found out about the accident.  We haven’t really spoken since.  Unless you consider snarling at each other from across a room speaking, that is.”       

They were all quiet for a minute, each lost in their own thoughts.  Mor broke the silence with, “So now you know our history with Tamlin.  And why we didn’t tell you sooner.”

Feyre gave her a considering look before retorting, “Don’t keep anything else from me, hooker.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, bitch!” Mor said with a smirk.  

As painful as it had been, Rhys found himself extremely glad that he had told his story.  Feyre had been right, she did deserve to know.  And maybe, just maybe, it would help put a wedge between her and him.  Like the selfish prick he was, he found the idea of them breaking up to be extremely pleasant.            

[queerinette]

i never knew you were the someone waiting for me

Yo waddup, I’m Lib and I never fucking learned time management. 

Anyways, happy birthday to @ninoirs. Rey, you’re tiny, but you’ve officially left the legion of babies in the QML server and you will be missed. The only good news today is that you’re still tiny, so I can always fall back on that. 

You’re hella fun to chill with sometimes, and even more fun to salt with. Here’s to life treating you good as you continue muddling through it. 

I also posted this on AO3 because tumblr is shit and it’s easier to keep track on AO3. 

There’s a distinct memory in my mind of you that I never seem to let go.

I don’t remember if it was June or July or August, but it was summer. We laid in your room, just two teenagers attempting to stave off the heat with help of the cold ground. Your hair was spread along your head, and your hand trailed the air above you. I looked over at you, at the reflection of the sun in your eyes, and I realized, with a jolt that sent my heart running, that your eyes were blue.

It’s not that I hadn’t noticed them before; I had, it was impossible not to. But there was something suddenly alert in me, something that sent my heart racing and hands sweating from something other than the heat.

The skies danced in my vision, and you turned towards me with a laugh and a joke you’d remembered. There’d been a smile on my face as I watched you, and your hands fell onto your stomach. My hair stuck to the back of my neck, my shirt felt too tight, and sweat glided down my forehead, making me feel gross.

But you were with me, giggling, your fingers making contact with my nose before falling away.

And in that moment, Marinette, I fell in love with you.

You didn’t make it easy on me. Nothing really changed between us. We still linked arms and skipped down the stairs. Your hands still batted at my hair out of boredom, and our fingers still tapped together in a conversation even we couldn’t understand.

But suddenly you were there. It felt harder to breathe around you, like any moment you’d notice that my breathing had hitched. Your clothes would hang off you so well, giving you this air of someone ethereal, that just the thought of inhaling oxygen through my lungs felt like a crime, like I was stealing something precious that belonged to you.

There was a naivety in me when I thought distance would help. Do you remember the week I avoided you? I spent the entire week rewriting the same article for the Ladyblog over and over again. Food tasted like cardboard, homework would start waltzing in front of my eyes, sleep seemed like a far-off wish. I collapsed into you the first opportunity I got, and suddenly, everything seemed a little brighter.

That was when I knew my feelings went a lot deeper than I thought.

Of all the painful memories, the most painful would have to be the one where you went on a date with Chloe.

I remember the shock I’d felt at your admission, the jealousy that had blossomed out of my heart and caused me pain. It felt a little bit like you were choosing Chloe over me, which was ridiculous because you didn’t even know how I felt. Chloe’d had the courage to do what I didn’t: she’d come to you, looked you in the eye, and told you of the very feelings she’d kept guarded for so long.

But it oddly felt like a betrayal when I watched you get ready for your date. Chloe was the reason we were friends. Chloe was the girl who had years under her belt of irritating you and stealing your confidence. Chloe was the girl who had prompted me to move and interact with you.

You smiled and danced in your room, and I swallowed bile as I encouraged you to have a great night. When you parted with a hug, I stared out the window at the nervous tremble of Chloe’s breath as she waited for you, her smile wavering at the sight of you.

Something in me tore, and an incurable ache followed me for two weeks after.

You’ve always been so supportive of my dreams. It’s something about you I’ve always loved, how you lean in closer to listen to me ramble. It’s not even because your encouragement goes a long way to me. The sensation of your every exhale against my cheek makes me trip over my words, a description jumbling together as I continue to fumble.

You used to chalk it down to my excitement.

I’d be lying if I said my heart didn’t break when you told me to go to New York. Logically, I knew you were only saying it in me best interest. The internship was something I couldn’t even imagine in my dreams, and passing it up would always have been my biggest regret.

But your constant insistence that I leave for New York felt like you were trying to get rid of me, as if I’d overstayed my welcome in your life and now it was time for me to reside in someone else’s. My heart agonized over what I really meant to you, and even the blinding lights in the City of Dreams couldn’t take away the emptiness I felt.

I will never forget the relief that coursed me at my return, when you ran up to me in the airport and hugged me, your legs around my waist and your arms connecting the pieces of my heart once again.

I spent so long convincing myself you didn’t feel the same way for me as I did for you. It seemed like one of those far-off imaginations I’d conjure up in one of my desperate moments, an image of love and family and you that would never come to reality.

We were at Adrien and Nino’s wedding, their smiles radiant as they stared at each other like they finally had purpose. During the ceremony, you’d remarked that they were just like us, and I’d found myself at a loss for words, undaring to let myself have even an inkling of hope.

We’d danced with all our old classmates at the reception, but never each other. When someone suggested it, you remarked that we danced around our rooms anyway, and there was no point in doing that when there were other people to dance with. I locked the sting of hurt away and danced, my feet hurting and arms tiring.

I didn’t see you again until hours later, when I found myself heading out towards a gazebo I hadn’t noticed. You turned when you heard my footsteps, a soft smile I’d never seen. It stopped me in my tracks, the realization that I wasn’t familiar with all your expressions as I’d thought I was.

It’s my luck that the moon shone it all its glory that night. The breeze made your dress flutter, and in that moment you felt like the rippling waves. You extended your hand towards me as soft music from the reception filtered towards us, and there was a secretive tilt to your lips as you asked me to dance.

We swayed more than danced, but as my arms rested against your waist, I felt something unfamiliar to me. I’d held you in my arms many times, and your head had made me a pillow many before, but the curve of your head felt like you’d made my heartbeat your soundtrack.

The twinkle I saw in your eyes as you pulled away froze me, because I’d seen it before.

It was on Adrien’s face, hours before, as he stood across from Nino at the altar.

I can’t recall how the topic came up, but one Saturday, while we were hanging out, we started talking about weddings.

You described your perfect day with excruciating detail: the flower arrangements, the color scheme, the exact gait you’d use down the aisle. It sounded like you had a specific person in mind, and when I said that, the smile on your face had been so painful, I felt my heart start to crack.

The question reflected onto me so quickly. I remember staring at the ground, eyebrows furrowed in concentration before looking back at you and laughing because the wedding you’d described was so perfect, I intended to steal all your ideas if I got married first. You’d laughed along, the sound permeating my essence, and I didn’t notice the slightly hysterical tinge to it until days later.

It didn’t occur to me that maybe the reason your wedding plans sounded so perfect to me was because I was the person you had in mind.

This is the part that always seems to good to be true. I’d convinced myself all feelings I had for you were shoved deep down, into a crevice of my being I wouldn’t touch until I was on my deathbed.

But then my sister blabbed to you, her careless babble confessing that, long ago, I’d expressed the feelings I had for you.

The glint in your eyes as you refused to stare at me, the strained smile that refused to leave you all night left me with a nervous beat in my chest, breaths quickening and fingers tapping against anything they could. You follow me to my home, which hadn’t been the plan for the night at all.

Later I’d come to appreciate it all.

Your steps were quiet next to mine, our strides similar. I’d gotten so used to your presence by my side, and even our walking was in sync. We’d walked into my apartment and you’d stood in front of the door after it closed. It took me time to gather my courage before I could look at you, and it turns out you’d been gathering your courage too. Just for something different.

You’d crashed into me and kissed me, and my soul had healed, like the burden I’d carried for years had finally been lifted from me.

I’ll always remember how your hands had gripped me so tight, like I’d slip away if you let go for even a second. Tears made their way down your cheek and make their way to your lips and to mine, but you refused to break away, arms trembling. I could hear you whimpering, and it felt like you’d found a treasure that had evaded you for years.

We tried talking that night, but your mouth wouldn’t stay detached from mine long enough. You’d try to start a sentence and then give up, hands traveling to my hair and bringing me closer. I didn’t try to pull away, too weak to even think about it.

We were like two pieces of clay that had been molded together long ago, but only then had finally dried. We were something permanent now, and couldn’t be pulled away from each other without extreme difficulty.

Whenever you wear your big white coat, you laughingly tell me you look great in white. I don’t disagree, but I always think of a different garment in a different setting, with your promised  gait and the same soft look that I’d never even dreamed of being on the receiving end of.