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moodymelanist · 1 year

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Where The Light Won't Find You

Nesta Archeron descends into the darkness.

What if Nesta went into the Court of Nightmares?

So... fully blaming @separatist-apologist for this one. Her evil!Elucien is so sexy that I had to get in on the fun (but for eventually evil!Nessian). No clue when I’ll keep updating this but I’m making myself post this now while I’m excited LOL

Read on AO3 here!

Chapter One

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Nesta

Nesta thought she’d been angry living with her father in that tiny hovel. She thought she’d been furious seeing him do nothing day after day, content to let them starve until Feyre went into the woods, but nothing compared to how livid she was at her youngest sister forcing her to submit. Yet again. Because somehow, little Feyre always knew best.

As she sat in Feyre’s ridiculously opulent living room, wallowing in just how out of place she was, she leveled a glare in her sister’s direction. Feyre was flanked by that arrogant husband of hers, who was clearly enjoying himself, along with Amren and Cassian. Elain was nowhere to be found, and neither was the Shadowsinger, but he at least had the excuse of likely being out on Court business.

“I’m not moving to the House of Wind,” Nesta said flatly, her tone cold as ice. “I’m not a member of this court. You can’t do this.”

“It’s not up for debate,” Amren replied just as frostily. “You can either go to the House of Wind to train with Cassian in the mornings and work in the library in the afternoons...”

Nesta turned to her sister and completely ignored Amren, careful to keep her face blank even as she raged inside. She hadn’t spoken to Amren since their fight on the pleasure barge earlier that summer, and she had no intention of changing that now. “Or?”

“Or we can take you back to the human lands,” Feyre continued, shifting in her seat under the intensity of Nesta’s gaze. “It’s up to you.”

“Those are my only options?” Nesta almost snarled. Anyone with a brain could see that these weren’t true choices; she was just picking between two prisons. One a gilded cage and the other a guaranteed death sentence, especially if she was returned anywhere near their old village. She hadn’t heard about anything of note after the war with Hybern, but she hadn’t forgotten the grove of ash trees in Graysen’s estate.

“I— yes.” Feyre squared her shoulders and stopped her fidgeting long enough to stare Nesta down. “We discussed them, and we feel that’s the best we can offer you right now.”

“You have no right,” Nesta hissed, practically seeing red from how enraged she was. She was a grown woman – how dare Feyre and her new family act like they had any authority over her. “You dragged Elain and I into this mess. You are the reason I’m like this, why I’m stuck here in this wretched body—”

“Enough,” Rhysand snapped. Night-kissed power leaked from him and Nesta made sure her silver fire didn’t shake their precious mansion in response. As far as everyone knew, her powers had vanished with the Cauldron, and she wanted to keep things that way. “You don’t get to talk to her like that.”

“Be quiet, or you can leave,” Feyre told him sternly before Nesta could hiss something back. Feyre leveled her own fierce glare at her husband before turning back to Nesta. “I don’t care what you say, Nesta. You’re going up to the House and training, and that’s final.”

“How is Elain supposed to see me?” Nesta fired back. “How am I supposed to do anything without assistance?”

“You’re welcome to walk down the ten thousand steps,” Feyre suggested, even though everyone knew Nesta wasn’t physically able to do that. “Or someone can transport you, if they’re so inclined.”

“Elain can do neither of these things,” Nesta hissed. She didn’t miss how Feyre’s shoulders tightened just slightly at the mention of their sister – perhaps Elain wasn’t folding into Feyre’s little plan as easily as Feyre assumed she would. “How am I supposed to see her?”

Nesta hadn’t spoken to Elain much since last Solstice, but it certainly wasn’t for Elain’s lack of trying. Nesta just didn’t have the words to explain how heavily the darkness weighed on her, especially when Elain seemed to be thriving here in Velaris. She didn’t know how to talk about how when she wasn’t numb to everything, all she could feel was rage.

Still, she would use every opportunity to try and wiggle her way out of yet another one of Feyre’s absurd demands. Elain would forgive her.

“You can work that out between yourselves,” Feyre answered smoothly. “But I’m sure Cassian would be happy to take you to see Elain.”

Nesta slid her gaze over to him, curling her lip as she looked him up and down. He hadn’t bothered to use that time he’d promised her on the battlefield, and she had no plans to ask him for it now. “I don’t want him anywhere near me.”

“Too bad, sweetheart,” Cassian replied mildly. His wings shifted behind him, betraying his true anxiety about the situation, and she held back from calling him out on it. “We’re training tomorrow whether you like it or not. I suggest you get a good night’s sleep.”

“I don’t recall asking for your guidance,” she snapped. It was almost painful to look at him, knowing he’d participated in planning this farce of an intervention, so she pursed her lips and dismissed his presence altogether. She turned her gaze back to Feyre, whose cheeks had turned slightly red in anger. So she could get upset on behalf of her new family, but not for Nesta. Never for Nesta. “I want to speak to you. Alone.”

“Fine.” Feyre waited until it was just her and Nesta before she spoke again. “You can’t insult your way out of this one, Nesta. No matter what you say, I’m done paying for this behavior.”

“You’re not paying for anything,” Nesta cruelly pointed out. She knew Feyre was right about not being able to insult her way out of this, but it didn’t mean she wouldn’t try. “It’s your precious husband’s money.”

Feyre flinched slightly as the mark landed as intended. “It doesn’t matter whose money it is. You’re embarrassing us, and I won’t have it anymore. We won’t have it anymore.”

“I didn’t know my life was under your discretion,” Nesta replied flatly. Her heart pounded fiercely in her chest as the walls continued to close in, but she wasn’t going to go quietly. “I didn’t know you could even feel embarrassment with all the money he throws around.”

“You spent five hundred gold marks last night, Nesta!” Feyre shouted, her eyes flashing. Nesta refused to be cowed; she’d seen Feyre get upset so many times over the years it barely even registered anymore. “Do you have any idea how much money that is? And how ridiculous it was to see what you spent it on? How humiliating it was for my family to see that?”

My family. Something Nesta clearly wasn’t a part of anymore. “You saving face isn’t my problem—”

“It is now,” Feyre retorted. “You’re going to train at Windhaven with Cassian, and you’re going to work in the library. You won’t be causing any more trouble.”

“I won’t go.”

“We packed up your things and sent them over to the House. Rhys spoke to the landlord, and your building is going to be torn down and rebuilt as a shelter for families displaced by the war.”

Nesta was so caught off guard she couldn’t hold back her power for a moment, gritting her teeth as she fought against the silver fire flowing through her veins. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“It’s already done, Nesta,” Feyre told her. She took a deep breath and schooled her features into careful neutrality, something she’d clearly learned from Nesta, before continuing. “Are we finished having this pointless argument? Everyone is waiting.”

“I’m never speaking to you again,” Nesta vowed, her voice almost shaking with rage. How dare Feyre take away one of the only choices she’d ever made for herself, as if it were nothing? Like Nesta herself was nothing, just a doll to be moved from cage to cage as Feyre saw fit.

“That’s fine,” Feyre replied, shrugging before getting up off the couch. “Talk to whoever you’d like. It won’t change the reality of the situation.”

A few minutes later, Nesta found herself standing in the entry hall with Cassian and Feyre. She said nothing as they made idle conversation around her, confirming details of how they were getting to the House and which of Nesta’s things had been packed against her will. Her skin crawled at the thought of them forcing their way into her apartment, combing their fingers through her possessions, judging her for the way she’d decided to live.

She wasn’t stupid – she knew she wasn’t living up to the standards everyone had set for her. Rhea had made her expectations for Nesta’s life very clear, and Feyre and Elain had heard her parrot their mother’s wishes for so long that they’d been appalled to see the kind of neighborhood she’d ended up in after the war. But it had been her decision, her choice about where to live, how to dress, what shops to frequent. It was supposed to be up to her to decide when she would see her so-called family; she hadn’t wanted to reveal any kind of weakness to them, so she’d kept herself as far removed as possible.

And now she couldn’t even have that.

Instead of contributing to the conversation, Nesta focused on keeping that raging power of hers under control. She might have been almost blinded with rage, but she didn’t want to explode and accidentally hurt anyone. It was bad enough that she hadn’t been able to keep herself under control during her argument with Feyre; she wouldn’t be making that mistake again.

Any hope of quieting her anger disappeared as Morrigan waltzed into the room, exchanging hugs with Cassian and Feyre before saying something to Nesta about wearing her leathers in Windhaven tomorrow.

Nesta just looked at her, an icy glare firmly in place; there was no need for a mask for that one. Morrigan gave her the fakest smile she’d ever seen before turning back to her friends – no, her family – to continue laughing and joking with them.

Feyre eventually cleared her throat before walking over to Nesta. “Today you can focus on getting settled on the House and unpacking your things. Maybe get some rest?”

Nesta said nothing, not even looking in Feyre’s direction. She decided to focus her attention on the wall across from her; as children, being ignored bothered Feyre like nothing else. Perhaps it still held true.

Morrigan and Cassian continued poking fun at one another as Feyre shifted awkwardly on her feet. “Alright. We’ll talk soon.”

We won’t, Nesta thought as she continued to ignore Feyre. When Morrigan offered her elbows to her and Cassian, Nesta reached out and grabbed one, keeping her chin high even as she wanted to scream in frustration. She remained silent as Morrigan gave Cassian a look, which he thankfully didn’t return. He winked at Feyre instead before they disappeared, which somehow felt worse.

She intentionally tensed her body as Cassian grabbed her in mid-air. He sighed before flying them safely to the balcony below, and the second his feet were on the ground, she shoved her way out of his grip and made her way towards the door. It was cold out and she hadn’t brought her gloves, but she wasn’t going to admit she needed any extra warmth, lest Cassian get any ideas.

“You’ll be in your old room,” he called out to her retreating back. She didn’t stop walking, placing one hand on the door handle before turning to scowl at him. “My room’s a level above that.”

“Why would I need to know that?” she asked, pulling the thick door open with a grunt. Had the door gotten heavier, or had she gotten weaker? Probably the latter, she realized. She knew she’d gotten smaller and smaller as the months had passed by, but to struggle opening a door was a new low.

That seemed to be a pattern for her these days.

“Maybe you’ll need someone to read you a bedtime story,” he teased while following her inside. He held the door open effortlessly and she scowled even further at him for showing off his strength. “I hope it’s one of those smutty books you like so much.”

She didn’t dignify that with a response as she walked towards the stairs, eager to get to her room and finally be alone. He followed her and easily matched her pace with his much longer legs as they walked downstairs. “I don’t remember asking for an escort.”

“I’m just making sure you make it there in one piece,” he replied easily. He didn’t seem too bothered by her attitude, which only made her bad mood even worse. “Az is two doors down from me, but he won’t be here much. It’ll mostly be only you and me.”

“Shame,” Nesta said coolly. Knowing it would get under his skin, she added, “At least he’s pretty to look at.”

Cassian laughed. “I’ll pass the message along, Nes.”

“Don’t call me that.” She leveled another cold glare at him as they arrived at the familiar door to her bedroom. “Excuse me.”

“You should eat something first,” he said, leaning against the closed door. “Get a hot meal in your stomach before training tomorrow.”

The thought of eating something knowing she would almost certainly throw it up made her nonexistent appetite even smaller. She didn’t have alcohol to block her nightmares out, and she certainly wasn’t going to warm Cassian’s bed to make herself too tired to dream. “I’m not training with you at that horrible place.”

“Like hell you aren’t,” he retorted. “You know what’ll happen if you don’t. I’m only trying to help you.”

“Right,” Nesta said, smiling in a way she knew unnerved him. She knew Feyre would never let them dump her in the human lands like garbage no matter how many times she threatened it, even though several members of her little family wouldn’t hesitate to. Morrigan and Rhysand would probably fight for the privilege. “You have quite the definition of help.”

Cassian studied her for a long moment before sighing and moving out of her way. “I’ll bring you something to eat later. I’m sure you’re tired.”

She didn’t say anything, instead fixing him with one of her flat looks that she knew made him uncomfortable. She really was tired, and she wanted to lie down more than anything, but she wasn’t going to show any weakness if she could avoid it. She had to stand her ground for as long as possible.

“Mor or Rhys will winnow us up to Windhaven after breakfast tomorrow,” he added once he realized she wouldn’t be saying anything else. “Get some rest, alright?”

She gave him one last irritated glance before turning and retreating into her bedroom. It felt good to close the door in his stupid, sad face and finally be alone, where she didn’t have to keep up this exhausting façade. She was angry, yes – livid, actually – but putting on her cold mask without the help of a tall glass of wine was proving more difficult by the minute.

Between her indignation at her new circumstances, the strain of holding back her power, and the headache that had been building all afternoon, she’d never needed a drink more in her life. She knew that wasn’t an option and wouldn’t even bother asking the House for it; Feyre or Rhysand had undoubtedly warded against that to make her even more miserable.

Nobody had a problem with Morrigan practically downing an entire bottle of wine with every meal, but let Nesta spend a few expensive nights in Velaris and suddenly it was unacceptable. The hypocrisy of it all made her want to throw something, but then Cassian would come running in, and she’d rather die than have to explain the source of her outburst to him.

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Nesta slept fitfully during her first night in the House. There wasn’t much to do other than stew in her anger and promise to herself that she’d get her revenge, but that eventually burned itself out in favor of a full-body ache.

She couldn’t drink to keep the nightmares away, and when she did manage to fall asleep, it wasn’t long before she was awake and running to the bathroom to throw up. The smell of a hearty dinner just outside of her door made it even worse, her stomach reacting poorly to the smell of it, and she was thankful Cassian hadn’t managed to bring it inside her room like he’d probably wanted to.

Cassian either didn’t know or didn’t care that she could barely stand when she joined him for breakfast the next morning, but even as exhausted as she was, she refused to let him get the last word in. She hated wearing the tight, fitted leathers he favored so much, but being uncomfortable was more than worth getting a rise out of him. Even when she was a ghost of herself, it was far too easy to rile him up.

When they got to Windhaven, it was all she could do to walk over to a rock and sit down without keeling over, but Cassian and Morrigan seemed to think she was just being defiant for no reason. They would run back to little Feyre and her insufferable husband, to report on her progress – or lack of it – and Nesta would undoubtedly lose something else. She didn’t see how things could get any worse, though, so it was a risk she was willing to take.

After wiping herself down using a bucket and an absolutely minuscule lunch, she managed to force herself down to the library for a few hours of meaningless work. In her experience, things had always worked out better when she kept up appearances, and she mindlessly shelved books while she thought of ideas for petty revenge. Nothing was satisfying enough for how she’d been wronged, but it was the best she could do, so she forced herself to be content until her mind could conjure up something more satisfying.

Dinner was a lonely affair, made even worse when she gave in and asked the House for a glass of wine only for her requests to be filled with water instead. She’d progressed from nausea and tremors to feeling like she was going to crawl out of her body from how badly she needed a drink. Her skin felt hot and feverish, and she wasn’t sure she’d be able to make it downstairs to her bed without help. Not that she’d ever ask for help – she’d rather die before allowing anyone to see her at her weakest.

She managed to choke down a couple bites of the food before pushing the plate away from her. It was pure torture getting back to her room, but at least the House provided her with a cool compress after she’d changed into a loose nightgown. She didn’t even have the energy to take her hair down, leaving most of the pins in as she laid down and focused on not dying.

Nesta’s days continued in much the same way. She barely slept from a combination of how ill she felt and the horrific memories she kept reliving, but she forced herself to keep going on half-cocked ideas of vengeance. Cassian forced her to eat breakfast in the mornings before they traveled to Illyria, and if he noticed how she had to force down every bite, he said nothing about it. Morrigan threw her dirty look after dirty look, sometimes paired with snarky comments, and it took every bit of awareness Nesta had not to loose her fire on the female.

Nesta fought hard to stay upright and further embarrassed and infuriated Cassian in the process, ignoring every outstretched hand and motivating speech in favor of trying not to pass out. She could hardly stay on her feet during her hours in the library, but she never complained, not once. All the while, she felt close to death as her body purged whatever was left out of her system while struggling to maintain its grip on those silver flames coiled inside her.

After a week had passed, her overlords decided to grant her a day of rest. Cassian didn’t pound on her door threatening to drag her out of bed, and she was able to lounge in bed until nearly mid-morning.

By the time Nesta made her way downstairs, the only sign of Cassian was a short note explaining that he’d left to handle something in Illyria. The break from physical training — or lack thereof — didn’t exempt her from her duties in the library, however, so she ate a few pieces of toast, freshened up, and eventually made her way downstairs.

The other priestesses had long grown used to her silence, so she wasn’t bothered as she found her cart and began her familiar trek up and down the library’s halls. She was grateful for the lack of supervision; this was the one place she could practice the little bits of magic she’d picked up without anyone paying too close attention. She was terrified the House would alert someone what she was up to if she practiced there, and she wasn’t physically able to get to the much lesser-warded Velaris, so she made do with the time she had available.

Nesta also wasn’t reckless enough to practice with her fire in the building, nervous that she’d lose control and manage to destroy priceless books in the process. She had to get the magic out somehow, though, so she’d done her own research on magical skills no one had bothered to tell her were important to learn. Instead of expelling a fiery blast like she really wanted to, she focused on what she’d read in one of the tomes last night about winnowing, squeezing her eyes shut while she visualized herself appearing in the next row of shelves.

There was a muffled thump as the cart landed with her, but thankfully none of the books fell over. She had nothing else to practice her winnowing with, but she knew how imperative it was to be able to transport objects — and eventually living things — with her if she truly wanted to master the skill. She knew her true goal was to eventually leave Velaris, and perhaps bring Elain with her, but for now she was content with having her own method of transportation if she ever needed one.

Besides, being able to escape at a moment’s notice was a pretty convenient trick to have up her sleeve.

Nesta cleared her thoughts and bent down to inspect all the books on her cart for any damage, sighing in relief once she’d finished inspecting them. She meant to stand and keep returning books to their rightful place, but her fingers stilled as one of the titles on the bottom row of the nearest shelf caught her eye.

She pulled it out, her eyebrows flicking up as she spied A History of the Hewn City written in emerald ink against an ink-black cover. Curious, she flipped through a few of the pages and realized she’d never seen anything like it, even though she’d heard many unpleasant tales about what the Court of Nightmares was like. She didn’t have time to read it as closely as she liked at the moment, but it was nothing to make the book disappear from her hands and take up residence inside her armoire instead.

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Nesta had naively believed she couldn’t be more disgusted with the Inner Circle than she already was, but that was before she started reading into the histories.

The authors were carefully neutral in their wording, but she’d long mastered the talent of reading between the lines. She wasn’t particularly surprised with how cruel and twisted things were for those unfortunate enough to be born inside the Hewn City, but for all their talk of being a Court of Dreamers, she couldn’t fathom how they allowed so much suffering under their watch. Surely Morrigan couldn’t have been the only person worth saving there. Surely Rhysand wanted to make sure no one suffered, especially not unnecessarily.

Nesta wasn’t so arrogant as to automatically assume she would do a better job, but considering how Rhysand and Morrigan had done piss-poor jobs of managing the other half of their court, she supposed the bar wasn’t particularly high. They only seemed to bother with the Court of Nightmares when they wanted to rile Keir up — an idiotic idea, considering the Darksingers made up a not insignifant portion of Night’s armies — and things hadn’t changed in centuries.

It was a dangerous idea, one that could get her killed, but she wasn’t afraid. She’d survived countless horrors already, had taken what she wanted from the Cauldron, even killed an ancient king; what challenge did Morrigan’s father present to her?

Nesta wanted them to regret the moment they’d chosen to try and tame her like a dog. She wanted them to be afraid to even think her name, let alone utter it out loud. To not dare risk invoking her wrath the way they’d been terrified of Stryga or the Bone Carver or even Bryaxis.

The Old Gods were all gone, anyway. It was high time for someone to take their place.

Think of the looks on their faces, she thought once she’d turned out the lights. I wonder if they’ll try to teach me a lesson then.

When Nesta finally slipped into unconsciousness, her dreams were filled with a crown of bones.

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Once Nesta had settled on a way to make them pay, it was like a fire had been lit in her mind. She had somewhere to focus her energy other than simple bits of magic during her menial work in the library, and if Cassian noticed, he didn’t comment on it.

Still, as motivated as she was toward her new goal, she knew she’d need help achieving it. She didn’t know the extent of her powers, too nervous to be caught testing their limits, and she didn’t remember the Hewn City well enough after just one visit to risk winnowing herself. She’d have to goad one of the Inner Circle members into taking her, and the only person she could think of fit for the task was difficult for Nesta especially to get a hold of.

But just when Nesta wasn’t sure things would work out, she received a summons to the river house for a family breakfast. As irate as she was that Feyre didn’t think she’d meant it when she said she didn’t want to speak to her ever again, the more logical part of Nesta’s mind knew this was the best opening she could hope for.

Morrigan wouldn’t pass up on the opportunity to lord her perfect, golden self over Nesta. If only she knew what doors she was about to open for the eldest Archeron.

Nesta kept her mental shields pulled as tightly around her mind as she could once Cassian set her down in front of the estate’s overly grand entry. He looked like he hadn’t been sleeping well, but considering he hadn’t cared when she’d been the one with dark circles under her eyes, she couldn’t find any sympathy for him within her.

“Good morning,” Feyre greeted them at the door with a smile. It dimmed considerably when she realized Nesta wasn’t really looking at her, but she carried on anyway. “Come in, come in, you must be starving!”

As if on cue, Cassian’s stomach rumbled. He stepped around Nesta and slung an arm around Feyre’s shoulders in a half-hug, the pair moving into the house while forgetting Nesta standing outside in the entryway. Typical.

She shut the door behind her and slowly made her way to the dining room, following the sound of voices to find most of their group assembled. Amren was thankfully nowhere to be found, but Rhysand and Morrigan were chatting happily at one end of the table while Azriel piled food onto his plate on the other.

Nesta didn’t bother to hide her scowl once she realized the seating arrangements would force her to sit next to Cassian. They expected that from her, so she would play up her discomfort at sitting next to the hulking bat, deepen her frowns and sharpen her insults the moment it was her turn to put on a show.

All the better to sate the dark, twisted thing inside her that wanted blood.

Breakfast thankfully passed quickly enough, Nesta managing to eat some oatmeal in addition to her toast. For once, Cassian kept his comments about her eating habits to himself, though she certainly felt his eyes on her as she added some sugar to her tiny portion. She didn’t bother to acknowledge anyone at the table, least of all him, only murmuring her thanks to Azriel as he poured her another glass of water.

By the time the rest of the group had eaten their fill, Nesta was nearly vibrating out of her skin with the need to get away. Azriel left a few minutes early after one of his shadows whispered something in his ear, and Rhysand, Feyre, and Cassian wandered off toward the outdoor patio, leaving Nesta and Morrigan alone for the first time in a long while.

Nesta took a deep breath once she realized they were alone, smoothing her hands over the simple gray dress she’d chosen to wear today. It was still a little too loose around her frame, but that had been a calculated decision; if she looked too put-together, perhaps things wouldn’t play out the way she’d want them to.

“You were quiet for once,” Morrigan commented as she conjured up a flute of wine sparkling with more bubbles than Nesta had ever seen before. “Have you learned your lesson about keeping your forked tongue between your teeth?”

Nesta clenched her hands into fists to avoid doing something she shouldn’t — drinking, using her power on Morrigan, getting up and walking away forever. “I don’t recall needing to learn any lessons, Morrigan.”

“Always so formal,” Morrigan replied with a snort. She tipped some orange juice into her flute and downed half the drink at once. “Mhmm. I would offer you some, but…”

“I prefer my drinks untouched,” Nesta responded, looking over Morrigan with thinly-veiled disdain. “I’m sure you understand.”

“And here I thought beggars couldn’t be choosers,” Morrigan said with a sharp smile.

Nesta took a deep breath and forced herself not to rise to the bait. She needed Morrigan on this more than she needed to respond to the other female’s barb; this could just be another transgression on the list.

“Amren said it would be better to throw me into the Court of Nightmares,” Nesta eventually said, her voice the perfect mix of accusatory and irate. Her feelings for Morrigan were no secret, and there was certainly no love lost in return; she was the best candidate for what Nesta needed done, so Nesta could only hope Morrigan’s disdain for her would be enough to set the wheels in motion.

“We all heard,” Morrigan responded warily. She narrowed her brown eyes into slits, as if she expected Nesta to lash out at her over it. “What about it?”

“Do you still agree with that assessment?”

“I do.”

“So take me there and be done with it.”

Morrigan raised a golden eyebrow. “You want me to put you down there?”

“Better there than the human lands,” Nesta answered, keeping her voice flat and cold. All the better for Morrigan to make her own assumptions about Nesta’s motivations. “I’m done with this charade.”

“You’ll fit in perfectly,” Morrigan answered with a cold smile. She pushed back her chair and stood as she added, “In fact, I’ll take you down there right now.”

Read Chapter Two Here!

#acotar #acosf #nessian #nesta archeron #cassian #moodymelanistwrites #acotar what if #unhinged!nesta #court of nightmares fic

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youhavebeentraceyd · 1 year

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My thoughts on The Glory

[Spoilers Below]

The editing style was hit and miss for me. See I do like the cutting away from a scene at the right moment, and then revealing the rest of the scene at a later time. It keeps things interesting. But the problem is they did it too often! To the point where I kinda want someone to edit the whole show into chronological order so that they can make it clear when something happened. I mean all I really know for sure is that Myeong-O was murdered on October 19th at around 11:20pm because they kept going back to it lol.

The final episode was a bit of a mess. They can cut out that flashback reveal of the old land lady and young Dong-Eun, and replace it with much needed final shots of the three still-living members of the shitheads. I want a where are they now scene! I needed a scene of Sa-Ra, in prison either sober from drugs finally feeling shit and regretful OR now in prison more drugged up than ever before! Hye-Jeong, now unable to talk, struggles to find work, to communicate, is unable to bag a rich man. And lastly Yeon-Jin...Don't call me sadistic but I kinda wanted to see a violent scene of Yeon-Jin in prison where a group of women (preferably five) gang up on her and force her hand into boiling hot cooking oil or something. Is that crazy? idk it just felt like the final scene of her in prison wasn't enough! I need to see her skin burn!! ....uh anyway.

What I find frustrating, is that I don't know where Dong-Eun's plans and machinations end and the on-the-fly choices of the shitheads begins. It's like...what actually was the point of her becoming a teacher? Why did she reveal herself to the shitheads at the school? Why did it feel like she barely did anything? I guess the answer is 'to keep her hands clean' but idk, it feels wishy washy. Like what would she have done if Jae-Joon actually didn't give a shit that Ye-Sol was his daughter? She told Sa-Ra to fill up a bag full of cash but didn't really give a threatening reason why, Sa-Ra doesn't reeeeaally give a shit about hiding her drug problem. And WHY didn't the shitheads just KILL Dong-Eun? They were monsters as kids they should act far worse now. They're rich enough to hire hitmen ya know? Problem solved. It frustrated me because she revealed herself, openly told them that she was going to destroy them, and they DIDN'T ban together to destroy her first? They're shitheads but do they really have shit for brains??

I did like the reveal of Dong-Eun specifically targeting Yeo-Jeong all those years back, because of his family connection to the hospital where So-Hee's body was. I liked it bc a lot of times during Part 2, his rich people privilege and family connection really helped and I kept thinking "well isnt this convenient" or "its pretty lucky that he's on your side", but as it turns out; it wasn't convenient! It wasn't luck! It was part of her far-fetched "plan". Though it's pretty dang lucky that he was so devoted to her, before she even really did anything.

Dong-Eun and Yeo-Jeong have zero chemistry idgaf. Her and Do-Yeong on the other hand! Now that was chemistry! Now regarding Do-Yeong, it didn't sit well with me that Do-Yeong was the one who murdered Jae-Joon. It makes sense to protect Ye-Sol but ultimately it wasn't really in his character to do that. I wish Ye-Sol all the best and that she seeks therapy.

Also Dong-Eun's mother? Tragic, very sad, but honestly she should've taken care of her mother years ago. She didn't need to do much to get her into an institution.

Despite all my critiques, I thoroughly enjoyed this drama. It takes a lot for me to sit through k-dramas, and this one was top quality binge worthy

#the glory #moon dong eun #park yeon jin #ha do yeong #doo yeo jeong #kang hyeon nam #jeon jae joon #lee sa ra #chol hye jeong #son myeong o #kdrama #netflix #my post

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the-lights-are-loud · 2 months

Text

Betraying Me

I've been told many things.

"It's just a short drive. You'll be fine."

"They'll understand, you have a good reason."

"It looks like it is gonna be a rush today."

"Have you applied to those scholarships yet?"

"Look at all these letters from colleges!"

I know it's happening,

I know I'm being irrational.

But I feel

my heart

Swelling

Shrinking

Breaking

Twisting

Melting

Burning.

Like a pinprick of fire through my chest.

My lungs filled with lava.

"Next up for presentations."

My stomach is in knots and full of butterflies and jumping off cliffs and splat landings.

My throat feels full of thick cotton, muffling every attempt at life.

I can’t breathe

Or swallow.

My jaw, wrought and wrapped in iron,

And the headaches it brings.

My shoulders are as hard as the boulder on my back.

My brain screams into the dark,

Empty,

Void.

Every scenario runs through my brain at Mach 10.

“Is something wrong? Are you okay?”

I know that I don’t have to worry, but I do. I don’t know what I would do if I didn’t worry. I need to know every detail, to have it repeated to me.

Over and over

and over and

over and over.

Nothing can be a surprise. Surprises are a bad ending, a mistake, a miscalculation. I can’t plan for them. Without a plan, I’m lost. What if I can’t fix the problems around me? What if something really happens and I can’t do anything about it?

My backpack is so heavy, filled with unused defenses. A giant box in my car, unused emergencies. An overflowing mind of unused plans.

“Why are you so freaked out?”

I have to ask,

over and over

and over and

over and over.

Do you really love me? Or are you lying just to spare my feelings? Is the care you show me a facade? Am I just a pile of emotions that you have to take care of?

This sense of impending doom, it never leaves. Every approaching milestone, every idea that I can do better, locked behind that growing dark cloud.

“If caffeine makes it worse, why do you drink it?”

Am I addicted to this painful rush, an adrenaline-fueled spark that lights my heart on fire? I don’t want to feel this way, but it’s all I have ever known. Does it help to know that this pressure expands in the same way that it might shrink?

Do you know that my rushing heartbeat makes me panic? Each thudding, thundering pulse is a reminder that I can’t calm down, no matter how much I try. Every time I cry in bed because I can’t sleep each rushing possibility collides in my mind like a lightning bolt, striking the vulnerability in me.

“Stay away from what bothers you.”

When the world is the issue, how can I escape? When everything and nothing drives you to the brink of insanity, would you feel hopeless too? When it’s inescapable, and the world relies on you to function normally, would you not worry?

Am I annoying? Do you get sick of my worries? Do you know I’m just as sick of this hassle that is the attempt to reassure me

my heart,

my racing beat,

my mind,

my crowded thoughts.

I’ve done these things before. They aren’t strange or new,

but I still overthink.

Because

something,

Something always goes wrong.

Why can’t I get a break from my own prison?

Why can’t this ache fade?

I hate it.

I feel like I hate myself.

This anxious cry

of my brain

betraying me.

#poetry #poems #i decided to finally just repost some old work #this is proof that i really can write #shut up #the lights are loud #anxiety

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nityarawal · 8 months

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To My Maui Auntie:

Aloha! Hope you're doing OK. So sorry to hear your bfs family homes burned in Lahaina.

Lmk if there's anything I can do to help. I write.

I misplaced your # because I forgot how to spell your name. I'm going to try to get Mikael out of prison. We need to Undo violations of local government there if possible. Tragic its become such a police state- so easy to sell loved ones to military crime for land- like this Arson and his false arrests- my divorce- Gag order for murders on beach homes. Will they get away with it?

I can't imagine any of Danya's family would be guilty of such an awful thing! Can you?

I felt Mikael was framed for our Pharisien-Danya paradise.

Take a stand if you can and visit him. Let me know what you think when you do.

Still trying to get my babies on a an appeal tomorrow.

Pray for us.

How is Heather & Durien divine?(:

My gf Geena- is a divine Malaysian cook & her son- an art tech genius from our academy - they would like to move there with me if you hear of any compassion living for families in meantime.

I'm a realtor of 23 years- and a civil rights journalist- if your family needs any help rallying for support through sharing truth of their story- I'd be happy to help and Guardian is also interested f/ UK- not a tabloid TG. I do believe reperations are in order at large in my Aloha States from Heartland to California & Mother Maui- and for all moms/kids impacted by in house domestic terrorism.

Danya wouldnt want her son tortured for her gifts.

Probate laws are being grossly violated by real estate brokers there. I turned in as many as possible. Please keep grievances coming!

Can you believe my bros prostitute at coldwell banker managed to list me as a probate and nearly murdered me like Sinead O' Connor & Britney Spears rather than give me my estate? They said they want me to see another Dr. - after 1000's. I have cyst in brain & lymes from militia germ warfare.

It's Dr. code for murder.

Anyways- you were in my heart and prayers daily. I hear you're close to fires w/ Daughter?

Is Oprah's palace OK?

My bro still hasn't written to let me know he survived fire- or if kids were there- still exposed to harm.

Bff sent his FB post because I've been worried sick- seems like more gaslighting from Facebook crimes of court. Heart wrenching estrangement still with kids. They were kidnapped after they had me beat up in 2017. Negotiating appeal tomorrow and my legal team of thousands keeps ghosting me. Praying Oprah comes through for Britney & I. Shocked she wanted to lowball Hawaiʻi- probably fake news from her conservator creeps that got Dr. Oz.

I'd be ever so grateful if all those angry Hawaiian moms would call my Courthouse and let my judge know none of us are probates just so we're crystal clear. I'm not dead. Are you? Just checking!

I hope Marina Bathem's Coldwell Banker Brokers aren't terrorising them still? I saw Maui Mammas videos complaining about gross realtors and energy weapon fires they started with defense team.

Tragic.

Waiting on 800 body bags to be filled by thugs.):

Prayers & love to you & Maui Mammas - Island of our hearts.

Always-

Mahalo,

Nitya4Eternity

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jerzwriter · 1 year

Note

Hi, Elsa! Could you please answer: 🍲🍥 and🍡? I wish you a great week! 🌹

Hello Dear Dani! (From This List)

I've answered this one:

🍲 When did you start writing and why? and this one 🍡 Which of your fics was the most emotionally difficult to write? Here.

But... I did leave out WTD on the second question. Since it was an OH fandom friend asking, my head was just there. But in WTD land, A Mother's Journal has been excruciating at times. As we've discussed, being mothers ourselves and having traversed some minefields in recent years, a lot of the material hits close to home. Being a parent doesn't come with an instruction book for the best of times, never mind the worst. Then we find when we're struggling the most ourselves, but still want to protect our children and give them the best we can in every possible way... oofh... those are emotions that we just never prepare for. Writing this series, I could feel Florence's pain. Sometimes being a parent means having to make a decision when both decisions suck, and it means facing your darkest fears and still having to smile for the sake of your child. For all these reasons, this series will always be close to my heart, even though it's wrecked it at times. lol

Coming Up Blank was also very challenging to write at times. It was just the unfairness of it all. Now, granted, we are not battling zombies in real life (just people with the brain capacity of zombies, which isn't fun either 😊) but there was a lot to relate to and empathize with here. Coming of age stories always get me, but showing these children coming of age in such a tragic time was really difficult to do at times.

🍥 What's your favorite fic you've written?

This is SUCH a hard question, because these stories are our babies, and we love them for different reasons. I have a very long list of personal favorites on my masterlist - it's long - and it's probably not up to date. Sometimes I no longer consider a work a favorite, but it could be back again one day - it's all subjective.

But off the top of my head I'd have to say Delaying the Inevitable. It was a huge endeavor and really a labor of love. I adore the story because it's not a simple love triangle, it's about love in all forms. It's about the ghosts from the past that haunt us and hold us prisoner until we set ourselves free, and its about forgiveness, redemption, and finding happiness again. Nothing else I've written compares to it, so it's really in a class of it's own.

But there are others that are very special to me and I consider them favorites as well. Some more dramatic fare would be Forever (OH, Ethan/MC), ...and I needed you to know (OH, Tobias Carrick), and Things Unsaid (Tobias/Casey). All are about the downside of love, which is pain. I was listening to a podcast with the TLOU creators and he had a line I'll never forget. Once you chose to love in any way, it ensures 100% that you will experience heart wrenching pain. It's true, their is no escaping it, and even in the pain, there is beauty, and I love exploring that. (Which is why A Mother's Journal above is on this list too.)

But there are lighter/happier things that are amongst my favorites too. Rather than ramble longer, I'll put my Personal Favorites list here, but a quick glance and, yeah, I need to update it! lol

Thanks so much for the asks, Dani! And have a lovely week as well!

#fanfic writer asks #asks answered

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the-firebird69 · 5 days

Text

Trump is having a bad reaction saying he's going to do things later people are smiling up and they're going to try and keep him out of here this guy is threatening our son for all sorts of stuff he thinks it works most the time it's because of a feeling I got to tell you we have to get rid of him and stop anyone like him he's a street urchin and it's a good morning and heads up about Street origins urchins he's a very low level person by mentality and his system but it was missed because he's low level but now it's not and you screwed all sorts of poor people

Thor Freya

Olympus

Wow I was sitting there doing it cuz there's parts this puts and we have to thank him for his loser behavior I'll tell you what he's trying to train us cuz he has robots so we're going after these robots and we're going to get a bunch and use them on those idiots and to get other robots this is disgusting

Garth

I clean it that way and I know you didn't they use them up they're destroyed in combat and they keep grabbing him destroyed in combat after killing your idiots and taking more of your stuff did you plan that hokey s*** yeah we know about your ordinance we have that stuff some of them are using a ton of it on you like Brian it's going to bombing campaign coming up using all those stashes and caches you said were in his lands that you're going to ignite it's been taken out of there for months any other questions s***

No you did blah blah blah and so I get something I'm threatening him now and people see me who you threatening it should be looking at the judge when you're doing that as me as an excuse it doesn't really fly there and they can't hear me they still can't and by the way that was kind of a loud overt code all your idiots are online giving up the code they have been for years according to your a****** plan A lot of them are in New Yorker Captain are captured about half and it talked about you trying to offer States evidence cuz you're such a pain in the ass with your robot plan. So I'm sitting here in mind my own business yeah I guess not had this plan to put you away and stuff and I'm going to try and do it so don't have this plan to reverse it on to you and you're in court right now in a criminal trial because of it and I'm going to put you away and you're going to be in jail right now you're being held in court and it's wiping you out your money your weapons your robots your computers your ships your people I'm going to continue doing it until you shut your f****** mouth and get away from me or you're dead. I've heard it before I guess I'm going to play Jesus Christ to go up there and get incinerated and sort of see something that's what's going to happen and it's an effigy and he doesn't care they do it to everybody I'm a f****** nobody with a dumb brain there's no any of this stuff and would rather feel hatred then survival so I guess I'm going to die that's what it is is all 20,000 of them are going to go nuts I sort of get something it's coming down to the fact that I'm a bumbling boob and we all are and he says that too and you're meant to be sacrificed and he knows it it's taking all her stuff because we're doing this personal attacks I got to tell you something I'm sitting here trying to make him feel vulnerable when I had everything now we don't have that much we're going to feel vulnerable and yeah that's the whole game no we're going to be losing stuff and we can continue to do this to this one guy and people don't want him in prison it's a ploy and it's not us it's not true but whether it is doing it and a lot of people are saying they're not doing it I think they're lying and I'm going to bring them down too to try to keep myself afloat to try and run the a****** playing on you to take your stuff I'm running the a****** plan of yours on you to take your stuff and other people are too you haven't noticed. So I'm going to have to try and get back to you by running the plan so you try every day and you fail every day cuz you're a weakling. I have to tell you something I can't scan this anymore I'm hoping to brace and he says I am I kill him he go away and you'd be next what's the point nobody gives a s*** if you die and it sort of get something that's probably true no it's true you're a f****** moron Joel you should have stayed in westborough what an idiot you are but thank you for the businesses in advance we're going to start buying more stock let me push everybody outside of the way and you can't even see us cuz you're a turd. You're in disguise or something yeah people fight over it after it's called systems and techniques and skill all those things you don't have so you reverted to this idiot plan and you dragged all these people to their deaths. It's fine and dandy but that's what I'm doing

Trump

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theshippingqueens-blog · 2 months

Text

I watched as the once beautiful land turned into a nightmare. From the beautiful mushrooms of the Kinoko kingdom to the black and gold of L’manberg being blown into rubble. Everything I had watched being built, nations being formed, was now gone. The once beautiful land was filled with explosions and screams of pain. A small tear fell from my eyes. I feel guilty for knowing the man behind all this. The mastermind who went power-crazy, the person who I barely even knew anymore. The once cheerful, funny person I knew was now driven mad and I did nothing to stop it, did nothing to change the course of these events, nothing to stop him. The person I fought alongside and followed to the ends of the earth and beyond. I met the forest-green gaze lingering in front of me. I tore my gaze away, those weren't the eyes of the man I love, the man who said "Everything that the light touched was our kingdom." That man was long gone now; everything I loved was gone. Nothing was ever going to be the same again. The world I once knew, the man I fell in love with, and would give my whole life up for, was gone.

"George, George, GEORGE!"

I opened my eyes to see the faint glow of the halos surrounding XD’s head. I looked around at the lush forest and the mushrooms that continued to grow on my shoulders. “XD?” I whispered, confused. Just a few minutes ago everything was in flames, Dream was destroying the whole land. “You seem frightened by my presence, is everything okay?” they said, floating above the grass as I sat up. “Everything’s fine,” I mumbled, looking around again. My eyes locked with a familiar dirty bond, and my breath hitched. No… I blinked, and like that, he vanished like a ghost. Maybe I was just seeing things. I turned to face XD, who was still floating beside me. “Is he still in prison?” I asked, getting up from the bed and dusting the fallen leaves from me. Who knows how long I was asleep?

“He’s been in prison for ages now, why do you worry about him so much?” The god asked, trailing a few feet behind me. “I- I still care about him even if he’s in prison,” I said, not meeting the god's gaze. It seemed wrong to care about someone who gave you the world and more than to take it away all for power. I seemed stupid for still thinking I could change this man and bring back the person I fell in love with. I guess it all seems like wishful thinking. Everything looked normal as I walked along the prime path into the familiar places I left after Dream was sent to prison. I stood in front of the community house, so many memories flooding my brain as tears welled up in the corner of my eyes. I lost so much in the past year, and the only person… or god, I should say, I could easily talk to and find comfort in was XD. Maybe that was because they looked so much like Dream… But XD was different from Dream, kinder, and he seemed to care about me and my well-being. Not like Dream, he didn’t seem to care, I was just a pawn in this twisted game. Why should I care about him? He’s hurt so many people, and yet my heart still aches when I think of him. Maybe this heartache is different, it's not the heartache you feel when you miss someone, it's lighter, more enjoyable, like floating on clouds. I looked at the god who floated beside me as I left, heading into the forest. I couldn’t live like this anymore… I gave Dream everything, I followed him to the ends of the earth and back, only to be hurt, confused, and manipulated. I can't take it. Mixed thoughts raced through my head as I made my way through the forest. I wanted a life that was simple and planned, tied like a ribbon, but I ended up here, with a past full of love, laughs, hatred, and so much more that I couldn’t escape now. I could live a simpler life that was perfect, just me and XD. “George?” XD said as I stopped to sit under a giant mushroom, taking a break from walking. “Hmmm?” I said, looking up at the God. They made their way next to me under the mushroom. They gave me a small pink flower. I smiled. "Are you doing alright, George? You seem to be lost in your little world since you woke up," the god said in a gentle tone.

I sighed. "Things have been different since Dream went to prison. I feel lonely, yet I also feel good about him being gone, like a weight lifted off my shoulders."

"Darling, haven't you learned he doesn't care about you? He manipulated you and treated you like a prince just to be forgotten about once you're no use to him. I care about you more than anything. A god shouldn't care for a mortal being, but you changed that, there's something special about you," they said, as my face seemed to get warm. "Y-you care about me? Isn't that just because of the deal we made?" I questioned, looking at them. A deep chuckle escaped, sending a shiver down my spine. "Oh, you sweet thing, that has nothing to do with this. You've always had my undivided attention, all my trust and love, even if you never return it." My whole body froze and seemed to heat up from those words alone. "XD…" I said, my voice barely a whisper. Of course, this explains why they're so protective of me. I didn't mind it; I still don't. I looked at the god. "XD." I looked at the god. "XD You're lying you can't just lie about loving someone it's not the right thing to do. Even after what happened with Dream." I said twirling the flower in between my fingers. Their hand went under my chin turning my head to look at the god lifting their mask so I could see them. they looked somewhat like Dream but....they were beautiful long dirty blonde hair and dark green eyes that made my heart flutter. Tiny freckles scattered on their face like tiny stars.

"He didn't show you love you just didn't know what love was he tricked your brain into thinking what it was. I can show you what love is if you just stick with me. we can rule together just the two of us forever My star."

~pov swap~

The lava was flowing, making the small obsidian room feel even hotter than it was. At this moment, nothing mattered more than getting out of this hell hole and taking back the land. As I looked around, I noticed a broken mask in the corner of the room, covered in dried blood and dirt, with its once-white surface now a distant memory. Memories of Geogre's laughter and smile filled my mind, causing a wave of regret and sadness to wash over me. However, he stopped caring about me, didn't he? The minute I was sent to this awful place, he just stopped caring. Maybe it was partly my fault. I wanted to make a better living for both of us, even if it involved all of this chaos.

~Back to George's POV ~

I felt embarrassed and special at the same time. XD seemed upset and hurt, and I realized that I had been lost in my thoughts for a moment. I was surprised to learn that I was important to a god who loved me and wanted to rule together. However, I was scared of love after what had happened with Dream. "Sorry, I blanked out for a bit," I said, looking at XD with a flushed face. "It's just that I do love you, but it's going to take some time for me to process this because I don't think I can handle love right now, not after everything." XD cupped my cheek and reassured me, "That's fine. I'll take things slow. Let's start by making a place for the both of us, shall we?" I nodded, taking the god's hand as we teleported away.

We spent weeks working on our tiny village, just XD and me. My mind kept going back to what they had said. I realised I wanted to spend the rest of my days with XD. Maybe this would work out between us. Everything was perfect, but it wasn't what I expected. There seemed to be nothing wrong with what was going on. I brushed it away and continued to work.

I smiled to see XD in the kitchen prepping dinner for the both of us. My heart warmed at the fact that XD was doing such a simple task like cooking for the both of us. They looked up at me and said, 'George honey, can you go and chop some more wood for the fire please?' They came towards me and I replied, 'Sure, I'll be back later then,'’ grabbing an axe. XD grabbed my wrist before I could leave. 'XD?' they bit their bottom lip. 'Be careful, please. I don't know what I'd do without you here with me, my precious flower,' they whispered, pulling me into an embrace. My cheeks flushed pink, and I hugged them back. We pulled away, but I was still looking into their eyes. 'I'll be careful, I promise.'' They kissed the top of my forehead before I left.

As I gathered wood for the fire, the forest seemed eerily quiet except for the sound of my footsteps and the rustling of leaves under my feet. Suddenly, I heard a rustling noise behind me, and I turned to see a man in an orange jumpsuit with piercing emerald green eyes staring at me. My heart skipped a beat as the wood fell from my arms, and my mouth went dry as I tried to speak. "You're supposed to be behind bars!" I said, attempting to sound assertive, but my voice was trembling with fear.

"Relax, Georgie. Why don't you ask how I am doing?" he said, with a smirk on his face, brushing his hair aside to reveal his scars and freckles. His eyes were intense like they were searching for something. "You tricked me! You used me! Why would I be happy to see you?" I said, taking a step back as he approached me. He was tall, with broad shoulders and a sturdy build, and his movements were swift and calculated.

"You meant the world to me, Georgie. I love you," he said, moving closer and cupping my cheek with his hand. I pushed him away, squirming to avoid his touch, but his grip was firm. As he lunged towards me, I fought back, pushing him away with all my strength. "Don't TOUCH ME!" I yelled, my voice echoing through the forest.

"Why not? Don't you love me? What happened to the George I knew?" he asked, his voice laced with sadness, but his eyes were still filled with malice. My heart felt heavy as I looked at him, knowing that the man I once loved was now a stranger to me.

"You're evil. You're the villain in everyone's story! You never loved me. I was just a pawn in your game. I was a puppet to you!" I said, my voice trembling with rage and sadness. He chuckled darkly, his eyes glinting with malice. "Oh Georgie, I'm not evil. I'm just trying to bring this land back to the way it was. What happened to 'Everything the light touched was our kingdom?' What happened to 'me and you together forever?' Do you even remember that promise you made me?"

I shook my head, trying to push away the memories that threatened to overwhelm me. "You only said that to convince me that you weren't evil. You tricked me into thinking that you loved me when you didn't," I said, tears of anger and sadness filling my eyes. As I wiped them away, I couldn't help but feel a deep sense of sorrow and regret for what could have been. Suddenly, XD's voice broke the silence, "Don't You Dare Touch Him." My heart raced at the sound of his voice, and I felt a sense of relief and safety.

As they moved closer towards Dream, my heart pounded with fear and my eyes widened with terror. Suddenly, with a firm and resolute tone, They spoke out, "Do you honestly believe that he loves you and will return to you? You never treated him with the love and care he deserved. You made promises of a future that you had no intention of fulfilling, using him and then throwing him away like a mere object. It is you who is unworthy of his love and not the other way around." As XD unsheathed their sword, the tension in the air was palpable. The atmosphere was thick with anticipation, and as XD came within inches of Dream, it felt like time had slowed down.

I felt sick at the thought of XD killing Dream. As much as I hated him...I didn't want to see him gone. As memories of everything we did together, I couldn't help but let tears fall.

Being with Dream was Like walking a Tightrope. He pulled me and together we were lost in a dream From mountains and valleys and everything in between we travelled the world together. Hand and hand we promised to never let go yet I'm standing here regretting everything. It was all an adventure with a breathtaking view. I risked everything just to be with him and now...I'll risk nothing all because he gave me a dream and gave it all away. I watched as the man I once loved was gone by the hand of a god who was willing to give me the world.

And yet it was merely a Dream.

#xdnf #dsmp

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akilahrambles · 8 months

Text

I Will Not Break

I will not break, I am stronger than that. She is not worth it. In all likelihood I will never see her in person ever again. There is no future for the two of us. Honestly it was a silly idea and it was doomed from the start. It breaks my heart into a million pieces, but alas there is nothing I can possibly do. I feel hopeless.

I must remember that she has probably forgotten who I am. If someone were to mention me I wouldn’t be surprised if she gave them a look of confusion and asked theme who extactlyu they were referring to.

It’s a funny thing when so much of my life was spent worshipping the ground in which she walked. At one point in time I would have done simply anything for that woman. Even if it meant I would be locked up in the worlds most secure prison. I would have gladly rot away if it would’ve brought a smile to her beautiful face.

So much precious time wasted. I was trapped in lala land by my heart. All it wanted for ages was her. It wanted to hold her tightly and tell her how she truly meant to me. I wasted so much time waiting for the perfect time to tell her that I completely missed the chance to say even the little things.

I constantly replay those moments with her, the good, the bad, and the ugly, in my mind like a never ending movie. One of thse days I’m going to get lost in those memories. I’ve been good about stopping myself from spirling, but I must admit I’ve felt myself slipping as of late.

I have been tempted to just let myself go, but if I do that it would just mean that she (though unknowingly) has won. She has finally gained full control over me. That is unacceptable. I am nothing if not free to do as I please. No woman is EVER going to take that away from me. They might try, but I will not allow it.

I cannot say when my heart will finally give up it’s quest for this woman. Much to my dismay it does not appear to be any time soon. There is nothing I yearn for the day when I don’t wake up thinking about her. The day when in the middle of doing something I don’t wonder how shes doing, wonder whether shes having a good day or not. What I hope is that there will be a certain day when I don’t let myself imagine shes thinking of me.

There is nothing I desire mote than to be loved. At this point it honestly feels as if God has cursed me or something. I haven’t done anything wrong though. Sure I’ve made mistakes here and there, but nothing that would require that would be my punishment with the result being my unending pain.

I keep trying to convince myself that things will get better, that one day God will look down and say “Shes been through quite enough, I should give her a break”. As much as I try to convince myself that I am an atheist, I am forced to conceede that I do in fact fear him or her with all my heart.

One of these days I’m going to go insane because my God I cannot get her out of mind. I’m trying I’m desperately trying to get her out of my overcrowded brain.

I am strong I will not break is what I keep telling myself, but deep down I know it’s not ture. There are simply no words to express how close I feel to breaking. I’ve been good about avoiding anything that even remotely has to do with her but it doesn’t seem to be working to well. So many things remind me of her. I can’t even go on social media with out being reminded. It sucks more than you can imagine.

Why can’t my heart just understand that this won’t be forever. I just need to be patient. Patience is key and thats all there is too it.

I will be loved one day. I will not break. She does not matter. I am better than this.

#writing #rambles #lgbtq #love #wlw #random #stupid #lovesick #Akilahrambles #idk what else to tag

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infiniterot · 1 year

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For a REALLY long time (think years) talking to you all was kind of like a compulsion in the sense that doing so would bring me good old compulsion-relief. And I KNOW that sounds scummy on first glance to call socializing with you guys a compulsion. And this is NOT an intrusive thought I’m unable to pick apart saying the dopamine that rushed through my system when I saw you guys was a compulsion pattern. I am quite literally saying that in addition to just reading/seeing/hearing you guys and feeling the friend lightbulb flicker up, there has always been that “build up-tense-release” pattern I also got from doing stupid things like flicking light switches or doing certain things in pairs of two that I never got talking to people otherwise. It’s always been “I need to get a response so something terrible won’t happen” or “count x amount of texts in response to something you said and if it goes over or lands on a bad number or even doesn’t FEEL right you need to start over.” Or something even more ridiculous.

I don’t think I’ll ever be able to explain how it really feels, but I trust that you guys understand that it’s a dread that never ends until a pattern is completed, if you knew it, you’d do pretty much anything for the relief. And if you don’t get that pattern down then it builds and accumulates until you quite literally feel mortal terror at all times of the day.

Trust me when I say that’s not all there is to my friendship with you all because I’d definitely be something else entirely without your company over the years. You guys have already become a part of me. I’ve already metaphorically cannibalized you in to my mind prison so that we’re definitely all growing old together even if any of you die before me (and I WILL be the last to die to spite this life.) It’s just that before, I wouldn’t mind all sorts of goofing and banter even if you guys ultimately misunderstood me about something because it’s just nice to talk. And I guess thats a little weird of me. To never actually show you all my true thoughts very often. Or specify points I KNOW you guy’s misunderstood because of a bit I didn’t want to break (compulsion brain, “if I break character something horrific will happen”) or even because I never let you all actually understand me as much as I thought you guys did (which is quite obvious considering I’ve never broken character very often). And I really mean it when I say you guys have never really seen my true thoughts often because I can count the thoughts you know on one hand (you guys don’t even want to know about some of the ruminations I get). But I just figured I never had to do that. Because just talking gave me that relief. You gave me relief. Which admittedly is a terrible thing, you should never rely on another person for something like this.

Unfortunately it’s a given that overtime compulsions give you diminishing returns so you always have to do it more often, or do something else entirely. I’m not sure if you guys noticed me being in the chat weirdly often (even for me) and being extremely chatty at certain points in the past. That’s a lie, I’m sure you guys did, that was always because those were moments where the dread intensified and getting a response from one of you was the easiest relief in comparison to whatever else my mind came up with (assault everyone in the room/snap your cats neck/rip up all the plumbing because there’s something hiding in there). And you guys probably noticed the whole buildup again last time. It’s just that I realized back then that at some point in the recent past the return had diminished completely. And I was REALLY trying to get that relief from talking to you guys like normal only to be met with…. An actually normal conversation. And if im being honest that’s what I was really freaking out about that whole week before that point.

Obviously there was also terrible timing with the seasons changing and being two hit combo’d with the thanksgiving dysphoria. I think if I weren’t built like this I’d continue to enjoy things as they actually are with you, until we are all old and wrinkly and holding hands at eachother’s deathbeds. And I hate that I can’t make you understand this dread and the disappearance of the compulsion relief. Because you guys were quite literally always the safest compulsion whenever it became -wrong-. And I lashed out and was meaner than I actually wanted to be when trying to specify myself when I realized that was no longer viable, because then what would I do? What would I have to do for relief? Did I have to mince myself with a grater? Skin my pets like roadkill? Keep repeating an exact movement over and over until the flesh was falling off my bones? Pan fry my drawing hand? Flick a switch until my nails fell off or repeat something in pairs until I reached the number 2222 but infinitely stop and restart every single fucking time because to get to 2222 you need to first pass a bad number therefore placing you in an infinite compulsion loop?

I don’t really know what I’ll end up doing here from here on out. Maybe I’ll just go back to normal. Maybe I’ll stay crawling back for a crumb of relief everytime things get bad despite knowing I won’t get it here anymore. Maybe I’ll disappear for a minute and pop up again months later like I never went awol because surprise! Perhaps all I needed was a detox (which is the stupidest thing in the world from me because why would I ever need a detox from my friends unless I were absolutely insane right?)🥰🥰🥰 I really don’t know.

You know that thing about how people crave human connection? Obviously I still crave that shit with you guys as a friend. It’s just that now I’m cripplingly aware that you guys are no longer a lifeline for my compulsive relief seeking and I’m probably going to be a lot more erratic and meaner from now on because now I’ll never know what’s next. And I really don’t want to be erratic and mean because that’s not the connection I want.

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mercy-burning · 3 years

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Second Nature

Part of Mercy’s 1k Celebration: A collection of Spencer Reid x Reader requests to celebrate 1,000 followers.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Summary: Spencer and Reader share some realizations after one of them has been kidnapped. Category: FLUFF + ADDITIONAL SMUT ENDING (18+) Warnings: Language, brief mentions of kidnapping and injury, bruising, sex (penetrative sex, protected sex, dirty talk, lowkey hand kink—i’m not sorry) Word Count: 6.1k

Full Request: “...Congratulations on your 1k! I have request for your celebration, if possible. Spencer/Fem Reader. Post prison Spencer, instead of him being taken by the cult, the reader is, making hi realize that she’s Love of life and they get together. Smut,preferred, if possible. Thank you.” — @dreatine

NOTE: I had a little conversation with @ssa-m-187 about a post which discussed that trope where Person A caresses Person B’s cheek, and then Person A leans into their touch and holds their arm to keep them there for comfort.. I mentioned that I might add it into one of my requests, and this is where it ended up! 😂❤

I also decided to add an alternate/additional smut ending in case anyone wanted only the fluff. It will be clearly marked when the smut starts if you choose not to read it!

MASTERLIST | 1K MASTERLIST

***

Nothing bad ever happened to her. Spencer wished that was an exaggeration but it wasn't. In all the years he'd known Y/N, she was never kidnapped, no one she loved ever got kidnapped, and she never even got sick. Her moods were always visibly happy, no one had ever seen her with so much as a sprained ankle, and even bad hair days always seemed to escape her grasp.

So naturally, when she got taken by Ben's Believers, it came as no shock that Spencer was losing his mind.

Everyone kept telling him that they'd get her back, and that they all knew what to do, but it didn't stop the sinking feeling that weighed his heart down, far away from the surface where she was safe and waiting for him.

Guess it's safe to say, this whole situation stirred up some feelings he hadn't even known existed.

The first thing that came to his mind, aside from the initial shock of her being gone, was the first moment they met.

Y/N and Ashley Seaver had both been added to the team around the same time, and after losing Emily, the three of them had practically become inseparable. But that first meeting, the very second he laid eyes on her, it was something purely magical.

She was trying to open a jar of pickles in the break room, breathy and aggravated curses spilling from her mouth as if she were a sailor.

"Do you need any help?" Spencer asked, not intending to scare her.

But alas, she jumped, dropping the jar of pickles and causing it to shatter everywhere. "Shit!"

He offered to help clean it up, and she accepted, sighing about how everything she had was going to smell like pickles for at least a week. And once everything was picked up, she grabbed a pickle that had landed on the counter and took a bite, promptly saying, "Well, at least I got it open," with a mouth-full of pickle. "Thanks for scaring me, bud."

It was amusing to say the least.

And every time they'd gone out for food since then, Spencer made sure to order something with a pickle every time, just so he could offer it to her and hear her laugh about that day. Every time, she mirrored that moment, taking a bite and saying, "Thanks, bud."

Of course, back then he hadn't realized he did it because he liked her. He just thought it was nice to see her smile, to hear her laugh. That's what friends did, right? Made each other laugh?

That's what kept him going as they searched high and low for answers to get her back. Her laugh. It was there, replaying on a loop in his brain as if he could ever forget it.

And when he got her back, he vowed to make sure he made her laugh for the rest of time.

When they knew where to find Y/N, Spencer made it his mission to be the one who got her out of there. He wanted to be the one she saw when she was being rescued. He wanted to be the one who made sure she was finally safe again and out of harm's way.

And most importantly he wanted to tell her that he loved her. And he didn't want to spend another day without being next to her.

But first he had to get her out of there.

The second he saw her, it was like everything moved in slow motion. She was strapped to some type of mechanism that kept her hands at her sides and her head facing forward. And despite the fact that she'd never been held hostage, she looked very calm. She looked like exactly what the cult wanted her to be: a sacrifice.

It made Spencer's stomach churn. And it felt even worse when they moved in. Because everyone was getting down, and the cult leader jumped for Y/N, striking to kill.

The gunshot stunned him. He stopped in his tracks, hoping and praying that she wouldn't be hurt, and for one final time before he actually moved, he replayed her laugh in his mind. He briefly held on to the image of Y/N smiling at him without a care in the world before he inevitably saw her face to face for the first time in days, most likely without said smile.

But of course, the second it was safe and he ran to her side, she looked up at him and smiled anyway.

As Emily got the final restraints off of her, Spencer took a huge sigh of relief and welcomed Y/N into his embrace.

"Hey, bud," she breathed into his neck, letting him squeeze her tightly. He could practically feel her smile burning into his skin, tattooing itself there for all the world to see, and he squeezed her tighter, thinking of how he wouldn't have it any other way.

They clung to one another the whole plane ride home, curled up into each other and falling asleep after all the stress they'd been under. And it was no surprise to anyone that they even held hands while they did.

Y/N dreamt of him the entire time.

Specifically, she was remembering the day she almost quit. It would have surprised anyone to know she'd felt that way considering she never let her bad days show. But in those particular few months, she had really missed her family—and Ashley,—the cases were getting more and more stressful, and it all seemed to really take a toll on her emotionally.

But that one fateful day, she walked into the round table room, expecting to find no one since she always showed up early, and instead she found Spencer with a large wicker basket.

"What are you doing here so early?" Y/N asked, raising an eyebrow.

He smiled shyly. "Oh, um... I know your birthday was last week, and I feel bad I missed it since I was visiting my mom, so... I wanted to celebrate with you when we had a little bit of time."

He handed her the basket, and she marveled at all its contents, ranging from a few of her favorite books in different copies she hadn't owned, an array of her favorite candies, and most exciting, a jar of pickles.

"Oh, before you break the jar, I have something else for you," he said with a small laugh, pulling something out of his jacket pocket. "I've read that these are good for helping you open jars, and I even got myself one because we all know you're way stronger than me, so if you can't open a jar of pickles, I probably couldn't either..."

She would never know this, but in that moment he was kicking himself for being so awkward, even though the two of them had been friends for years. And he'd never know, but she hadn't even recognized it as awkward. She was incredibly thankful and endeared by his thinking of her, and it was the one thing that made her realize she could never quit her job.

She loved him too much too leave.

So she didn't. That morning she'd been planning on telling everyone her plans to find another job somewhere else, maybe closer to her family, and that night she walked out of the office feeling loved and thankful for her friends, and one friend in particular.

Currently, said friend was sitting quietly in the parking lot of her apartment while she dug up the courage to ask him inside for the night. Her plans consisted of sleeping in for as long as she needed thanks to a well-deserved few days off of work, and though Spencer would most likely return earlier, she desperately hoped she could convince him to stay.

It was quiet for a while and the lights in the car had long since turned off, leaving them in darkness as well as silence. Despite that fact, it wasn't eerie in the slightest... It was comfortable.

Even more so when Y/N reached over and grabbed his hand.

And then she spoke.

"Can... Can you stay? I'm fine, I promise, I just... I could really use some company, you know?"

"Of course," he answered almost too quickly. It made her laugh, and though it was small, he felt a weight lift off his chest at the sound.

The two of them walked up to her apartment in more of that comfortable, dark silence. The only light source to be found was within the dim lights of the hallway, though they'd made the walk so many times it was like second nature.

That familiarity followed them through her doorway, Y/N taking off her jacket and instinctively handing it over with her to-go bag, where Spencer's arms were already outstretched. He took them and removed his shoes, then transported their belongings to the chair in the corner of her living room, maybe five or six steps ahead from the entryway.

Y/N took a large breath and smiled as she flipped on the lights.

Spencer noticed, turning to her with a smile of his own. "Good to be home?"

"Mhm," she responded with a nod. "But you know what would make it even better?"

The knowing smile they shared brought warmth to her chest as he made his way to the kitchen, saying, "Peppermint hot chocolate, coming right up."

As her best friend made noise in the kitchen, Y/N padded over to her couch, flipping on the table lamp next to it and sitting down with an over-exaggerated humph. Her legs curled off to the side as she leaned against the armrest, taking a deep breath and breathing in the warm comfort of home, only amplified a little while later by the aroma of soft peppermint.

She could hear Spencer humming quietly to himself in the kitchen, the sound bringing a smile to her face. He always absentmindedly hummed her favorite song when he was making them food or something to drink, or even when they were just hanging out together in comfortable silence. She wondered often if he ever sang it to himself when he was alone.

And she was going to ask, but before she got the chance, he came up behind her with two mugs of hot chocolate. She took hers gladly with a smile that perfectly matched the warmth of the mug. And while she took the first sip as he walked around the couch and took his regular spot on the cushion next to hers, that warmth spread to her chest. She sunk into the couch as her eyes fluttered closed.

Beside her she could hear Spencer laugh. "That good, huh?"

"You're an expert hot chocolate maker, don't let anyone tell you any different."

Another laugh came from him, and the sound bought warmth to other places.

They sipped their hot chocolate together, once again basked in silence that was only disrupted by the distinct ticking of Y/N's cuckoo clock, a Christmas gift from Spencer one year after she'd mentioned how much she was oddly fascinated by them. It sat on the wall across from them, next to the TV and right above a DVD rack with her favorite movies. She stared at the clock fondly as she drank her way through the hot chocolate, and Spencer did the same.

Eventually they were out, and once their mugs were placed on either side table, they found themselves turning to each other with more of that second nature pulling them together like the moon pulling the ocean. Once their knees touched it was like the ocean dragged them under, only rather than suffocating, they found themselves breathing easier, like they were finally at peace.

The clock rung out, and only after it finished echoing did Spencer initiate conversation. He examined the bruise right under her eye, and once again the gravitational pull was too much, his hand reaching out to touch it with curiosity as well as concern. "Are you feeling alright? Do you need some ice or anything?" he asked softly.

Y/N felt her heart stutter at the featherlight touch of his fingertips, and despite herself, she blushed. "No, I'm okay. Better now that I'm home. With you."

His eyes flicked up to meet hers at her words, and the softness and genuine relief he found in them made him melt.

He moved to take his hand away, but Y/N reached up and gently grabbed his wrist, bringing it back to her face pacing his palm firmly against the whole surface of her cheek. He watched lovingly as she closed her eyes and leaned into his hand further, bringing her hand to wrap around his forearm and hold him there. And in that moment, he had to wonder if she could hear the loud, intense beating of his heart as it drowned out the clock's ticking.

"I... I was so scared," Y/N whispered, keeping her eyes closed. "I mean... In the back of my mind I knew you guys would come for me, but... That was... my first time ever being in a hostage situation by myself, let alone at all, and I..." She paused, stumbling on her words before exhaling a breathy laugh. "Those people were creepy."

Spencer laughed with her, his hand still resting on her face. When she finally did open her eyes again, she looked up at him through her eyelashes, and in that moment she looked so soft and vulnerable that he couldn't help but finally tell the truth.

In a whisper so soft she almost didn't hear it, he confessed, "I was so afraid that I lost you..."

"Yeah, but... You found me," she returned with a smile as she nuzzled into his hand further. "You always do."

Something in the way she said it made him bolder, and he realized then that that's what she always did.

She strengthened him, made him more bold and determined... And she gave him something to hold onto when he was lost. When things felt impossible, Y/N always said the one thing that put him back together and made him feel whole again, whether it was a few sentences, or in this case three little words: "You always do."

Completing him was her second nature, something he wasn't even sure she was aware of.

But now that he knew, he had to tell her.

"Y/n..." Spencer traced his thumb along the underside of her bottom lip, and he could have swore he felt her sigh out. He stayed paused, reveling in the way he seemed to have an effect on her, his thumb longing to slide further and trace her entire mouth.

Nevertheless, he continued. "You are... Everything to me. And I don't tell you very often how much your friendship means to me, but I... I can't keep going forward without you knowing just how much I care about you. Really, it..." He huffed a laugh, hoping he wasn't making an utter fool of himself and that she wouldn't push him away at this confession that was dying to escape. "It's embarrassing how much I love you."

He couldn't tell if it was exhaustion taking hold of him, or the relief he felt at finally getting that off his chest, but he held his breath as he studied her eyes, which were glassy like she was on the verge of tears. Her grip around his forearm tightened and she turned, kissing the inside of his palm and keeping her lips pressed there for what felt like forever, until he started to feel his skin go numb. Realistically he knew it was only a trick on the brain, how such a simple affectionate gesture like that had the most heart-swelling and mind-numbing effects on him because of how much he loved her.

But damn it, he didn't care.

She murmured his name into his palm, and her eyes flicked up to meet his again. That's when he noticed a tear fall from her eye and down her cheek, right into the side of his thumb.

Finally, she responded, "I love you, too, Spencer. I... I wasn't sure I'd ever be able to tell you, but... After what just happened, I don't know if I could ever spend another day without loving you."

His heart absolutely burst at the seams, warmer than before, and most certainly not from the hot chocolate. That warmth only spread, turning into a raging wildfire when she let go of his hand and moved forward, practically tackling him and wrapping her arms around his neck, hugging him and pressing her face to the crook of his neck. His arms wrapped around her back, hugging her close as she straddled him and continued to nuzzle into his skin, his presence...

They held each other like that for a good minute before Y/N finally gained the courage to pull back and look into his eyes. They were just as glassy as hers, just as filled with love and comfort and home as she could ever have dreamed. Her hands slid down to rest on his shoulders for a moment before one of them cradled his face.

And then she kissed him.

She knew he loved her, he told her as much, but in case this was already going too far, Y/N kept it light and hesitant, desperately hoping it wouldn't make things weird.

But of course, there was nothing to worry about. And Spencer showed her that as his lips pressed deeper into hers, his hands on her back pushing her closer to him and seeking as much contact as possible.

She brought both of her hands to gently run through his hair, and at the sigh he let out against her mouth, Y/N tugged harder, pulling herself up so she could get into a better, more comfortable position on his lap.

They shared peppermint hot chocolate kisses until the clock rung out again, both of them pulling away with a little surprise.

"Has it really been an hour since it last went off?" Y/N mused in a whisper, taking in the swollen state of Spencer's mouth. The sight sent a course of butterflies through her stomach.

"I guess it has... It's um... It's late, maybe we should get some sleep."

"Only if you come with me," Y/N offered, running her fingers through his hair once more.

Spencer nodded with a small smile, his thumb tracing the bottom of her chin. "Of course."

They pulled themselves off the couch and, hand-in-hand, navigated their way to her bedroom. And even though they'd never actually done it before, sleeping in her bedroom together, the whole journey was so familiar it was like they'd done it a million times over.

SMUT ENDING BELOW

Y/N didn't know what time it was, only that the sun was brightly peeking through her sheer curtains, basking her bedroom in a warm glow that made it almost impossible to be comfortable under the covers. When she moved to take them off of her, she felt a hand snake around her waist, pressing firmly against her lower stomach and holding her in place.

"Are you awake?" she asked aloud to the air, softly in case Spencer was, in fact, still asleep.

"Mhm," he mumbled behind her, his breath softly fanning out across her shoulder. "Have been for about an hour."

"You could have woke me up," she said, turning around to face him. His hand lifted and then settled on her shoulder when she was in position.

"You deserved the rest," is all he offered in explanation as his hand gently brushed the hair from her shoulder. It tickled as it fell behind her, dropping off her body and across the back of her neck. Spencer trailed his fingers lightly up her neck until they reached her ear, and then he trailed them back down and over the curve of her shoulder, and then down her arm. He continued this and smiled as he took notice of the goosebumps that formed all over her skin. The thin tank top she'd changed into before bed left most of her exposed, each little freckle and hair that adorned her skin on display in the warm sunlight.

Meanwhile she smiled, heat slowly rising to her cheeks as she recalled their kisses on the couch. Needless to say, her dreams that night were rather scandalous, something she wasn't unfamiliar with, though given these new circumstances she was more than a little hot right now.

Spencer noticed, his hand halting its movement on her skin and resting itself on her waist over the blanket. "You're thinking about it, too? Last night?"

Y/N looked him in the eye and swore she saw them dilate when she responded. "Yeah. Among other things..."

"What... kind of other things?"

She would have told him, but since it was obvious they were both feeling the heat she bit her lip instead, a teasing look in her eye. "You're a smart man. You tell me."

"What if I... show you instead?" he whispered, his voice broken and obviously a little shocked that this was finally going to happen.

"Take it away, Doc."

His first kiss was sweet, reminiscent of the first one they shared on the couch, and his second was a little deeper. Y/N gave her stamp of approval by sighing, bringing a hand up to play with his hair again, and it was the trigger that shot him forward, his lips working hers with more passionate, methodical precision. Meanwhile his hand dipped under the covers and pressed firmly at her back, slipping under her shirt and bringing her closer.

She wrapped her leg over his waist, pulling herself forward to get as much contact as she could while he swiped over her bottom lip with his tongue. The small whimper she let out at his kisses made his hips buck forward involuntarily, to which Y/N clenched her leg tighter around his waist and tugged a little harder at his hair.

He tipped them over then, rolling so that he was hovering over her while their kisses only grew needier. His hand slipped under her shirt, feeling the expanse of her stomach and her sides. The low hum that came from her throat at his touches drove him half wild, so he boldened them, slowly sliding up and up until he reached her bare breasts. Her legs came out immediately and hooked themselves around the back of his thighs as she whined at his touch.

With curious kneads of her chest and even more exploratory kisses that were reciprocated with an equal hunger and passion, it didn't take long for Spencer to feel his insides churn with a desire that could possibly never be satiated. Even if Y/N was the one who kept him whole, he also knew she would be the one to completely wreck him to pieces. He'd rarely ever felt this type of desire before, especially not towards someone who took up every crack and crevice of his mind at any given moment. And now that he had it, he never wanted to let it go. She was going to utterly ruin him, and he'd never been more welcoming to that type of damnation—the type that was also his salvation.

Because she was everything all at once, devastatingly beautiful in every imaginable way.

Her hands tugged at his tee shirt, punctuating her urgency with a needy little whine into his mouth. He pulled back then, tugging off his shirt at the expense of taking his hands away from her. But from his higher position now, he took her in in all her wild glory, lips swollen and a little red, hair splayed out across the pillows, and her breathing visibly heavy. Even with the bruise under her eyes, she was the most breathtaking person he'd ever seen. She marveled up at him, willing her gaze to trail down his chest and stomach, her bottom lip tucking itself gently between her teeth as she stared at where his sweatpants hung low on his hips.

Y/N reached out and grazed her middle finger across the waistband of his pants, gently feeling the fabric and his skin at the same time. He was still, continuing to watch her explore his body the way he'd done hers, always amazed at the curious look in her eye— the one that was now swimming in a pool of lust. Her hand trailed upwards, feeling the soft planes of his torso until she couldn't reach any higher.

"Having fun?" Spencer mused with a smile as she rested both her hands on either side of his waist.

She sat up then, pressing a kiss to his neck while her hands travelled south, under the waistband of his pants. He sucked in a breath as she palmed him through his underwear, gently nipping his shoulder before she answered. "Oh, I'm having so much fun."

He was going to say something, but words escaped him as she sat up on her knees and continued tracing the outline of his dick through his underwear. He was painfully hard in an instant, a fact at which Y/N gave a low, amused laugh. Once she found the underside of his tip, she gently rubbed it through the fabric with her thumb, and the broken whine that he let out delighted her in every way. Her tongue traced his collarbone and the contours of his shoulders and neck until she reached his jawline. She licked him there too, humming as her thumb worked faster at his dick.

"Mmm, I've wanted this for so long," she told him softly, bringing her lips up to his ear. "Do you know how many times I've thought about us? Dreamed about us?"

"Not as many as me, probably," he choked out with a small laugh, audibly trying to keep it together as his stomach burned with every languid stroke of her thumb over his most sensitive point.

Y/N returned his laugh and sensually kissed his jaw before saying, "I doubt that." Then she dragged her mouth up to his lips and brought her hand out of his pants so she could thread all her fingers through his hair. Though they were kneeling, he was still taller than her, so his hard erection pressed firmly against her stomach as he brought her closer, gripping her hips and melting into her.

When his right hand slipped into her sleep shorts, she whined out and pressed herself harder against him, reveling in the way the heat from his hand practically burned into her ass. He kneaded her there as well, groaning into her mouth when she tugged on his hair and turned her head to deepen their kiss.

It was obvious that she was trying to feel some type of friction— her knees were willing her to get up higher, to feel him hard against her, but alas she wasn't able to reach. She showed her frustration by whining into his mouth and trying to pull herself up, the pressure of her arms around his neck getting stronger with every passing second.

"Spencer pulled away laughing a little, removing his hand from her shorts and bringing it to the front, dragging along the inside of her thigh. "Is there something you want from me, pretty girl?"

The nickname sent a fire through her veins that set off every smoke detector in her brain, the alarm coming out in the form of a whimper. "I want to feel you inside me," she whispered, nuzzling her nose to his and reaching down to guide his hand farther up. When his middle finger breached the fabric of her shorts, she whimpered again, willing herself closer to him. "Please, Spencer."

He hummed lowly, drawing circles into her skin. "Are you prepared? Like, do you... have condoms or anything, do we need one?"

"I have some in my top drawer if you want me to get it," she said quickly with a nod.

He laughed a little, amused at her eagerness, before pulling away from her and helping her off the bed. Once she was feet-first on the ground, she strode over to the dresser where she opened a small drawer on the top left and rummaged through it. Meanwhile Spencer followed her and came up behind her, pressing his front to her backside and making her tense. He brushed her hair aside and brought his lips to her neck, his hands resting at her waist.

She slowly rolled her hips against him, sighing out when his hands gripped her tighter. One of them slipped down into her shorts again, this time coming around front and resting over her clothed pussy. His fingers explored her like hers had explored him, teasing her in the same way that made her want to burst into flames.

"So wet already, pretty girl..." he mused, sighing and attacking her neck with more kisses. "I bet I'll be able to just slide right in..."

She outwardly moaned this time, clutching a condom in her hand and then slamming the drawer shut. "Alright then, Mr. PhD, why don't you put that theory to the test?"

He loved how eager she was, and a little impatient. Something told him that if he teased her enough, she might have just begged him for anything. But he didn't want to do that right now. No, right now he was planning on showing the love of his life just how much she meant to him. He was going to give her everything he had, and then some.

So he turned her around and kissed her, walking them backwards until his legs hit the foot of the bed. He almost went down, but before he could, he turned them around again. Y/N's body hit the bed, her legs immediately opening for him to stand between them. Rather than leaning down to kiss her again though, Spencer ran his hands tugged lightly at her shorts, to which Y/N gladly lifted her hips and allowed him to pull them off. Her underwear weren't too far behind, and then she lifted her shirt over her head, tossing it aside and leaning back on her elbows.

Seeing her fully bare like this was enough to drive him mad, but he held on, spreading her knees apart and sliding his hands along the insides of her thighs. "Y/N, you're perfect..." As he marveled at her and showered her with love and praise, he slid his hands further and further up her body until they reached her arms.

She helped him remove his pants and underwear, and once they were off, Y/N tore open the condom and handed it to him. He rolled it on and then leaned forward to kiss her on the forehead. Then her temple, then her cheek... Then he pressed the softest kiss to her lips and looked her in the eyes. "You really want to?"

She smiled at him and nodded, bringing one of his hands to her entrance and pressing his fingers to the wetness that pooled there. "You feel how bad I want it?"

He groaned and kissed her then, circling his middle finger over her clit and making her cry out against him. After a few more seconds of this, Spencer positioned them at the head of the bed and angled his hips forward, the head of his dick coming in contact with her pussy.

He slid in slowly, reveling in every pure, blissful second that went by as he gradually became completely enveloped in her. Once he was buried to the hilt, Y/N threw her head back and bit her lip, her hands reaching out to play with his hair again. He ground himself into her for a few seconds before pulling back and then starting a slow, steady rhythm.

"God, Y/N, you feel so good... So... perfect for me."

"Funny, I was just going to say the same thing about you," she breathed. Her eyes trained themselves on his, and though there was a lot of love there, she saw something else that she recognized, something hesitant. It was close to the same look he gave her last night, after she'd explained to him that she was fine after he examined her injury.

He was going easy on her. But she wanted more.

Y/N reached up to tug his hair gently, biting her lip and batting her eyes. "I'm not made of glass you know... You can fuck me harder if you want to."

Everything from the look on her face to the way she said it to the way she clenched around him as she did made him half feral. He smirked at her without thinking, a natural reaction to her challenge. "Oh, you like it a little rough, huh?"

She smirked back at him and nodded, tugging his hair harder. "Uh huh."

Though he started fucking into her harder, his pace remained slow, accentuating each rough thrust with a huff through his nose. Y/N's mouth opened involuntarily, the power of his movements rendering her almost speechless. Eventually though, she let out one large moan as her fingers even further tightened their grip in Spencer's hair.

Taking note of her reactions, he felt pleased with himself. "You like that, don't you, pretty girl? You like it hard and deep..."

Her hands dropped from his head and rested at the sheets, gripping them instead as he worked his hips a little faster. "Y—yes, baby, I fucking love how hard you fuck me."

The words tumbled out of their mouths so easily, each syllable spoken with the right amount of lust and truth, it was like their conversation was a dance. Their bodies and their words melded together in a perfect number that brought them further towards the climax.

But, as every dance does, their needed a little flourish.

Spencer reached out and caressed her cheek again, his thumb going straight to her lips. Y/N opened her mouth and sucked it in, swirling her tongue around it and groaning at the way he bit his lip when she did so.

"Fuck, pretty girl, you're gonna ruin me if you keep that up."

She smiled at his words, which allowed him to press his thumb flat down onto her tongue. Her mouth remained open as he held it there, her pants and moans coming out clear as day. And as if that wasn't hot enough, she batted her eyelashes up at him, and he fucked her even faster, both of them starting to feel the signs of impending orgasm.

He could have kept his thumb in her mouth forever, but to aid her in pleasure, he removed it, dragging it down her chin before bringing it to her clit and rubbing in tight circles.

"Fuck, Spence, that's it," Y/N moaned, looking down between their bodies and almost losing it at the sight that beheld her. "Don't stop, don't fucking stop!"

He leaned forward to kiss her then, the new angle finally bringing her over the edge. She cried out into his mouth as it explored her own, soaking up all the sounds she made and using them to fuel his own release.

They came together, and it felt like years of tension and anticipation and love finally culminated into one giant explosion that enveloped them whole. It felt like, for a moment, nothing else in the world existed, only Spencer, Y/N, and their palpable connection that felt very much like a home in and of itself.

Even as they came down, their breathing slowing down and their touches becoming gentler, that explosion quieted right alongside them, an echo of love and warmth lingering in its wake.

Spencer pulled out and laid beside her, reaching out and gently touching the bruise under her eye. "You okay?"

She couldn't help but laugh. "Yes. I'm more than okay... I'm perfect."

He smiled at her, pure, true comfort settling in his bones. It was a rare feeling, but he was glad that it came with her presence. "Me, too. And I... I meant what I said last night, Y/N, I... I love you. More than words could accurately describe."

Her heart swelled at his words. "I love you, too, bud. More than anything in the world."

He contemplated for a minute, a smile forming as he said his next words. "More than pickles?"

Y/N threw her head back in a boisterous laugh that made Spencer's heart beat a little faster, before playfully hitting his harm and snuggling up next to him. "Yes, definitely more than pickles."

"Good. That would have been embarrassing."

"I don't love you more than peppermint hot chocolate, though. Or that cuckoo clock."

Spencer pressed a kiss to her forehead. "Yeah, but I got you those things, so technically that means you have to love me at least as much as them..."

"Okay. That's fair, I'll give you that one."

With an over-exaggerated, "Phew," Spencer smiled and pulled her closer, the warm sunlight from the windows giving him the most clear view of their legs tangled together over her lavender-colored comforter. It was so domestic, so perfect and loving and real that he never wanted to forget it.

He was thankful that he never would.

***

PERMANENT TAGLIST: @elldell1204 @muffin-cup @calm-and-doctor @slutforthegubes @s1utformgg @rainsong01 @yourmisosoup @liveloudwriteloud @reidsconverse @la-vie-en-amour1 @edgycowboy666

TAGS NOT WORKING: @emilyprentisslittlewhore @takeyourleap-of-faith

If you would like to be added to the taglist, feel free to message me or leave a comment, and I’ll add you!

#mercy 1k celebration #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid smut #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction

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stellocchia · 3 years

Text

There is one thing I sometimes mention in my rants about c!Dream’s and c!Tommy’s relationship that I never expanded on, which is c!Dream assiging c!Tommy an almost divine value, well, that changes now!

Turns out I just cannot write short and concise analysis it seems, so I put everything under the cut...

/rp

I’ve talked a few times before about how Dream in his mind gives Tommy added value (again, Tommy has value as a human being already, but Dream most definitely doesn’t see that), but I want to go a bit more in depth about it.

So, we know by now that Dream has been obsessing over Tommy for quite a while now, though it really worsened with the beginning of season 2.

It is important to note that, at that point, Tommy himself was back on the idea of there being a friendly rivalry between him and Dream for the disk that was still in Skeppy’s possession, nothing more then that. He most definitely didn’t hate Dream yet (although their relationship has always been complicated) and he shouldn’t have posed much of a threat to Dream, right?

We also all seem to recognise that Dream would not have let up until Tommy was exiled, but I haven’t seen many people discuss the WHY of it. Why was it so important to him? Did he just do it because he hated Tommy? Did he do it because he was bored and wanted chaos?

Well, I think it’s because Tommy DID pose a threat to Dream. He WAS a threat to Dream because Dream had seen him during Pogtopia. He had seen him rally the troops, he had seen him keep people’s morale high even after Wilbur detonated the tnt and Techno released the withers, he knew what Tommy could do if Dream threatened L’Manburg while he was there, even while not being president (I mean, he still managed to lead a revolution against Schlatt even while never being the official leader). And Dream wanted to get rid of L’Manburg because of what it represented, because L’Manburg represented freedom from him, freedom from his rules. L’Manburg was a HUGE problem, so he needed to take out what kept L’Manburg together and that was Tommy.

But that’s not the only thing. If Dream only wanted Tommy out of the way, he could have just let him unalive himself or he could have killed him himself and pretended it was an accident. Heck, he could even have pushed for an execution in the first place instead of the exile! But he didn’t... and later on, during the Season 2 Finale, he outright refused to kill Tommy even in self defence. So for Tommy to have so much importance that Dream needed to keep a constant eye on him in exile and keep him alive, Dream’s mentality of Tommy being sort of the “key” to power must have already been in place when he formulated the exile plan (perhaps it was there from before then, but we can’t know this for certain).

I mean, he also ordered a whole prison that could have been meant to hold Tommy from the start (it has been confirmed by Sam out of character that it was made with c!Tommy in mind and the only indication that it wasn’t comes from c!Dream in a converstaion with c!Tommy, which we really shouldn’t trust at all) and a curious thing to notice on that, if that was the case, is that the prison itself is called “Pandora’s Vault”, why calling it “vault”? A vault is something that’s supposed to hold valuable items. It’s supposedly a secure location where you hide away your most precious things. Why calling a prison that? Anyway... that was just an interesting tid-bit I’ve been thinking about.

Back on the main tangent now!

So, what does Dream think of Tommy exactly?

“Listen Tommy, since you joined the server, you’ve been a headache! Okay? You’ve brought war, you brought terrorism, you’ve brought bad everything! But! But! The cause of all the wars, of everything, was attachment, alright? Your attachment to the disks, your attachment to Henry, to pets, to friends, to land, to countries, to items, right? (...) That’s- That’s the one good thing that you’ve done. The one good thing you’ve done is that you brought attachment to the server. So it took me a LONG time to realize how important attachment was, but, when I did, you know? It made me stronger, and I realised that you- you’re- you’re important, right?”

This is a quote directly taken from the season finale. I know it’s a long one, but it’s seriously important. Because Dream, with this quote, just asserted that Tommy is the reason attachments exist at all, even if that isn’t true of course (the whole disk war was kickstarted by Ponk getting mad when Sapnap retaliated to his prank by burning down Ponk’s lemon tree because he was attached to it), but to Dream it is.

Tommy, a normal human teenager with no “main character powers” (you know, like being a life and death god, or silk-touch hands, or having the brains to create nukes or being able to bring yourself back to life out of spite, basically he has nothing normally considered “special”) is deemed the reason why people are able to care at all. THAT is the added value I’m talking about. Dream doesn’t see Tommy as Tommy, he never did, he sees him as his own idealized version of him. And in Dream’s mind Tommy has so much importnace that, without him, attachments would just stop existing. “How do we know that” you ask? Well, why else would Dream have been so adamant about needing Tommy ALIVE? He already did his thing if bringing attachments was all the value Dream assigned to him. Now attachments exist, surely Dream can get rid of Tommy, right? Well, no. Because, as I said, to Dream Tommy is the embodiment of attachments.

I mean, he admitted so in that quote, didn’t he? He starts by telling Tommy that HE is the cause of everything: of war, of terrorism, of everything. But then, then he says that those same things are caused by attachments. How can we have both be true at the same time? Easy, make Tommy the concept of attachment personified!

“If I can control the things people are attached to, then I can control the server again!”

All we said before kinda puts this more in perspective. THAT’S why Dream is in constant need of controlling Tommy. If Tommy is the embodiment of attachment in Dream’s mind, then he is the embodiment of control and power as well. Because, if controlling a singular attachment gives you control over one singular person, then controlling the embodiment of everyone’s attachments gives you control over the server right?

“Look, it’s not fair! But Tommy listen: I need you, okay? I need you to keep bringing attachemnt to the server, because without you people weren’t really attached to things, but then you came and you brought ‘friendship’ and ‘countries’ and ‘things’ people can be attached to, right? And you brought that! And you’re- you’re the KEY, right? You’re the key to unlock the full potential of the server and power and everything”

Can’t get much more obvious then this... Dream literally described Tommy as “the key to everything”, that’s A LOT of extra value put on a random 16 yo. It would be a lot of value for ANYONE to have. In case it wasn’t clear, what Dream is saying is that controlling Tommy basically makes you a God. And, if it wasn’t clear enough yet, let me grab a quote from Tommy’s 3rd canon death stream:

“Tommy your life is literally IN MY HANDS, does that piss you off? Does that make you mad? Does it make you soo mad that I- you can’t kill me... I MIGHT AS WELL BE A GOD TOMMY! You can’t kill me and I can kill you!”

So, here’s the thing: killing Tommy is not that hard. A LOT of people on the server are stronger then him, even with the same equipment. At the same time killing Dream IS very hard. He’s literally one of the 2 best pvp-ers on the server. So why would this situation make Dream a “God”? Well, that’s because, based on his own philosophy, having Control over Tommy is what makes someone a God (it’s what gives you power over everything after all) and he here is fully in control. Not only because phisycally he is the stronger one, but also because Tommy admitted himself that he can’t kill Dream (Dream may wrongly assume that that’s because Tommy still has some attachment to him, which gives him another layer of control, truth is he’s just not much for killing people, the kid got too much empathy), which means he’s in control of Tommy’s mind and emotions as well to a certain degree.

And here’s the thing: wouldn’t Tommy need to be somewhat godly himself to be the ONE THING that can grant people the ability to become a God? Dream, by now, has elevated Tommy to a point where Tommy himself might as well be God. That’s why Dream was so eager to become immortals together, to study the powers that make Dream now think even more that he is a God, together, because, in his mind, they’re already on the same level, albeit in a very skewed way (and I say a “skewed way” because Dream still doesn’t see Tommy as a person, he still sees him as a tool, only he is a tool that grants people godlyhood apparently).

My theory on why c!Dream has this kind of perception of c!Tommy is because Tommy is his only remaining attachment. Dream got rid of all his attachments in order to gain absolute power, so he has to somehow justify to himself why this one particular attachment still doesn’t make him weak. Why still hanging onto Tommy (albeit in the most scewed up way possible) actually makes him stronger. He needs Tommy to be something more then a random 16 yo he once picked a fight with.

@ladycatland pretty sure you’d be interested

#dreamwastaken #tommyinnit #dream smp #/rp #tw abuse #character analysis #my post #I could go on so many rants about them...#but this one has been swirling around in my brain for a while now #tl:dr local green blob is convinced that a random 16 yo is god #said 16 just really wants therapy...

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rhysismydaddy · 3 years

Text

Prisoner's Game Pt. 1 (Rowaelin)

Synopsis: Aelin Galathynius never thought of herself as a vengeful woman. Until her boyfriend not only testifies, but leads a case against her that lands her in prison for the rest of her life. Post I-Love-You's. He didn't believe her, and she's about to show him that not only is she innocent, he made the worst mistake of his life betting against her. To a woman with nothing but time, life's just a game, after all.

The cinderblock wall dug into her back uncomfortably as she reclined against it, the air in the room was stale, and she hadn't showered in two days. By any measurement, Aelin Galathynius was far from her best.

And yet she somehow managed to look perfectly at ease--happy even--as she lounged in her cell, toying with the ends of her too-long hair.

It was a ruse, of course, just a little trick to piss off the man currently stomping into her space. By the flare of Rowan Whitehorn's eyes, it worked.

"Hello, Rowan," she greeted pleasantly, giving him a little smile and acting like it wasn't taking everything in her not to use the makeshift knife under her pillow to gut him like the spineless coward he was.

She could tell, even across her 8x12 cell, that he was gritting his teeth and fighting a similar action.

The heel of his expensive Italian loafers clicked as he walked across the space to the small table and took a seat at the steel chair in front of it. He tried to push it out further, but stopped when he realized it was bolted to the floor.

"Aelin," he said back, none of the so-obvious anger he was feeling present in his voice. "Been a long time."

Eight years, six months, three weeks, two days, and thirteen hours.

Not that she was counting or anything.

She nodded her agreement, reclining further on the bed and crossing her legs as if she was in the finest dress she owned, not a faded orange jumpsuit.

"What brings you to my side of town, Rowan? Here to finally switch sides and represent me?"

Dressed in a two-thousand dollar suit and tie, hair perfectly gelled back, he looked like he was successful a lawyer meeting with a wealthy client, but they both knew the last thing he'd ever do was work for her.

"You know why I'm here."

She did indeed, but she still said, "I must be exceptionally smart to know why you've come all the way here-"

"Cut the shit," he snapped, finally losing a bit of his cool. He regained it quickly, though, and continued, "I want to know how you did it."

She frowned at her split ends. "Did what?"

Rowan waited until she looked at him to respond. "You know what."

Sighing so deeply it should've rattled the walls, she said, "I can't believe I've spent the last eight years thinking you underestimated my intelligence. You clearly think I'm some sort of oracle genius."

Rowan mimicked her sigh, and she bit her lip to stifle a laugh.

Probably trying to stall, he spent a moment looking at her cell, at the completely bare walls and lack of photographs. All she had was the tally marks drawn in pencil on one wall and a dusty chess set sitting on the table.

When he'd taken inventory of those two things, he sat and just looked at her.

It was clear she wouldn't admit to knowing exactly why he sat in front of her, and he was simply putting off being the one to fold.

Predictable, proud little man.

Eventually, he took his loss and said, "I want to know how you managed to rob me from inside the most secure prison in Rifthold."

She smiled, a full, undulated smile she hadn't used in a long time.

She'd been planning this moment since the day the bars had locked behind her, and it felt damn good to finally see it come to fruition.

According to what she'd heard, definitely not what she knew from personal experience, the private vault in Rowan's apartment had been broken into. Apparently, only one thing was missing: an antique dagger that had been handed down in the family and was now worth over a million bucks.

"Why do you think it was me?" she asked, still smiling.

He gritted his teeth some more, and she internally snickered at the idea he'd have permanent tooth damage because of her. Something else to remember her by.

Green eyes spitting flames at her, he growled, "You left a goddamn business card."

Aelin forced her eyes up to the empty bed above her head, trying her hardest not to laugh. "Maybe I'm being framed?"

"Your fingerprints were on it."

She did laugh then, then laughed some more when his eyes narrowed. He looked like he was about to strangle her. "Rowan, in case you haven't noticed, I'm incarcerated."

She gestured around them to her cell to prove her point.

The bastard just smiled.

Of course he knows that, she thought bitterly, forcing her hand back to her lap and away from where it'd started to creep toward the pillow.

"So how would I rob you?" she asked, getting her mind back on track.

"That's what you're going to tell me," he demanded angrily. "I want to know how you got out of here, got all the way across Rifthold, broke into my apartment, and stole from me without any surveillance camera picking it up."

Aelin ran a hand through her hair, fluffing it just right. When she caught sight of the impatience on his face, she fluffed it some more and readjusted the thin jacket on her shoulders.

It was always too damn cold in this place. She hadn't been warm in almost nine years.

Because of him.

Just for that, she fluffed her hair some more.

Then she said simply, "I didn't."

"Stop lying!" he shouted at her, eyes flashing.

She wasn't, but that was besides the point.

"Fine." She rolled her eyes like he'd won. "I got my cousin to-"

"Aedion spent the night in Wendlyn. His travel is verified, and there are at least a hundred eye witnesses that witnessed him singing karaoke all night. Stop. Fucking. Lying."

Once again, she wasn't lying.

Aedion sure as hell hadn't been in Wendlyn last night. She'd just wanted to make sure his alibi was air-tight as planned.

Sighing again, she asked, "Rowan, even if I did do it, why the hell would I tell you about it?"

His jaw worked for a moment, and she could tell whatever he was about to say was difficult for him. "I'll get time off your sentence if you tell me what you've done with it."

She tried not to laugh, but she couldn't help it.

It burst out of her, full and uncontrollable, and she flopped over on the dirty mattress and howled for a good few minutes.

He glared at her, looking for all the world like he was experiencing a portion of the rage she was made of, but regardless of the threat in his eyes, she took her time composing herself.

"I'm serving ten consecutive life sentences, you idiot."

One for each and every one of her "victims."

"I'll make it nine," he offered generously.

"Even if I was a cat, that'd still leave me dying in a prison cell. Offer me something else."

He just glared at her, unwilling to give her anything she could actually use or want. Just like she'd expected.

"That's what I thought. So no, Rowan Whitehorn, I'm not accepting your little deal. You can think I robbed you all you want; hell, you can even know, in your famous gut, that I did it." She tilted her head, a cruel smile filling her lips. "But it isn't about what you believe, it's about what you can prove. Isn't that right?"

His eyes shuttered at the words, and just like that, they were sucked into the memory of all those years ago.

~Eight years ago~

~Rowan~

Rowan rolled over, edging away from the woman next to him carefully as to not wake her.

Her hair was spread out on his chest, her soft hand was on his stomach, and her leg was draped over his. By all accounts, she was all over him.

And it felt so fucking good.

He'd never met anyone like Aelin before. Anyone so full of life, so hilariously open.

It was like she was constantly on fire, flitting from one place to the next with endless energy and jabs about him being too old and slow.

"What are you going?" she murmured, nails digging in slightly to keep him where he was.

"To get some water. Go back to sleep."

He leaned down and kissed her brow, and she sighed happily and rolled over. Like a total cliché, he watched her sleep for a moment, trying to get his feelings under control.

They'd been seeing each other for less than a year, but he couldn't imagine his life without her. He was in love with her, and if the way she acted and smiled around him was any indication, she loved him, too.

He ran a thumb over her cheekbone, smiling when she tilted her face into his touch.

He was whipped, and he didn't even care.

Rowan shook his head at himself, pulled on a pair of boxers, padded to the kitchen, and held a glass under the faucet.

Then frowned as it sputtered.

He figured he'd at least make himself useful, knowing damn well she would never agree to call the plumber when she could "figure out how to fix it herself on Youtube."

So he knelt down in her kitchen and opened the cabinet door, trying to see what the problem with the pipe was.

Except he never got that far.

His eyes got stuck on the piece of paper sticking out under a false piece of wood covering the back panel.

Knowing it was wrong to pry but somehow unable to stop himself, he tugged the paper loose.

Then fell backwards to his ass, heart hammering and brain spinning as he read it over and over again.

The list of names wasn't long, but all ten of the people on it were highly distinguished members of society.

And they were all dead.

He wouldn't know that, since the death of the last person on the list wasn't even public record yet, but he was the attorney working with the police to find the killer.

Why did she have this list?

And what did the numbers next to the names mean?

One way or another, he knew he had to find out. He also knew he couldn't ask her. He was in too deep, too unbiased to know whether or not she was lying.

He didn't trust himself with her, so he'd have to go the traditional route.

He took a picture of the paper quickly, tucking it back where he'd found it. He snuck back in the room to get dressed, leaving her a note he had to go to work.

He thought he was going to be sick as he left her apartment, a feeling suspiciously similar to dread coiling in his stomach.

There was only one way she could know that last name, only one explanation that made sense.

But he had to know for sure. Had to know if he'd been an idiot this past year; an idiot who'd spent almost every night sleeping next to the killer he'd been searching for.

So he started investigating his girlfriend.

Six days later, he found the security deposit boxes and the murder weapons inside, still covered in dried blood that would be matched to the victims. All with Aelin's prints on them.

Two days after that, the woman he'd thought was the love of his life was arrested on ten counts of murder.

Despite the tears she shed, despite the promises she made to him, despite the love she claimed to have for him, Rowan told the cops everything.

Even though he couldn't imagine her killing anyone.

"It doesn't matter what I believe, it matters what I can prove."

That was the last thing he'd said to her, right as she was being dragged out of the court room and yelling at him to believe her.

The truth of the matter was that when it came down to it, he didn't trust her enough. The facts were against her, everyone on the jury had been against her, and in the end, Rowan was too.

~Present~

~Aelin~

Rowan shook his head, almost like he needed to clear it from the memory they'd obviously both been immersed in, and she smiled.

She hoped what happened all those years ago still haunted him, hoped he went to sleep at night thinking about her and the betrayal he'd served to her on a silver platter.

The first year of her sentence, she was so lost in emotion--in the rage and confusion and deep, deep hurt--that she couldn't bring herself to do anything.

He hadn't even bothered to ask her first. That's what had hurt the worst.

He'd seen that stupid, stupid list and had jumped to the first conclusion possible.

She knew it had looked bad, had looked like she was guilty, but she'd thought that if the worst happened, he'd at least ask her to explain before slapping the cuffs on her.

But he hadn't. She'd gone to prison, and his career had exploded into stardom from the success of the case.

"See, Rowan, when you refused to accept any other explanation other than the easy one, you made a mistake. Because I didn't kill those people."

He rolled his eyes. "Aelin-"

"And I'm not only going to prove it," she continued as if he hadn't spoken, "I'm going to ruin your precious little life while I do it. Just like you did mine."

She stood, put a hand on the steel table, and leaned over him.

"If you want it to stop, all you have to do is drop these bullshit murder charges and issue a public apology for locking me up in the first place."

He stood too, so close his loafers brushed the toe of her dusty, prison issued sneakers.

"That's never going to happen," he promised, voice uncompromising and angry.

Aelin smiled, having predicted his reaction down to the facial expression.

His pride, she'd decided, would be the first thing to go.

She reached around him to slide the pawn on the chess board forward, leaned in even further, and whispered, "Let the game begin, then."

~~~~~~~~~~

Part 2

@perseusannabeth @cursebreaker29 @a-bit-of-a-cactus @elriel4life @girl-who-reads-the-books @aelinfeyreeleven945tbln @live-the-fangirl-life @ireallyshouldsleeprn @highqueenofelfhame @gracie-rosee @rowaelinismyotp @nahthanks @ghostlyrose2 @lovemollywho @inardour @tillyrubes10 @claralady @tswaney17 @rowanisahunk @superspiritfestival @thegoddessofyou @awesomelena555 @booksofthemoon @greerlunna @jlinez @studyliketate @over300books @justgiu12 @maastrash @aesthetics-11 @bamchickawowow @b00kworm @sleeping-and-books @musicmaam @hizqueen4life @maybekindasortaace

#rowaelin #rowaelin fanfiction #rowan #rowan whitehorn #rowan x aelin #aelin galythinius #throne of glass #throne of glass fanfiction

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drarrily-we-row-along · 3 years

Text

Veritaserum Prompt Fic (Part 9)

(It has been a minute since I've posted anything on this fic. Sorry friends-thanks for your patience! If you'd like you can start at the beginning, Part 1 on Tumblr and click through or head over to AO3 to read the whole thing.) ============

One week.

It took one week for Draco to make all of the arrangements; to brew the potion and to get in touch with Granger to make a plan without Harry knowing.

None of it was easy, of course. Harry spent so much time with him that it was hard to have secrets, but Draco couldn't ever find it in himself to complain. If he was a better man maybe it would have gone faster but in the grand scheme of things what was one week against the balance of the rest of his life?

But, as he stirred the potion seven times counter-clockwise and it changed to a dark purple, he knew that his time was up. This was the last piece. He already had the portkey from Granger that would deliver him to her house, she'd drawn up the contract that he would sign when he got there granting Harry immunity, and now the sleeping draught was complete. A few drops in the tea that he was going to make for Harry right before bed and he'd be able to leave.

His heart clenched traitorously and his brain continuously searched for ways to weasel its way out of spending his life in prison. But this was the only way. The only that Harry would have a chance at the life that he deserved after all he'd been through. It wasn't fair for him not to get to enjoy the world he'd saved.

It was time for Draco to do the right thing. For once. He had to, Harry was his now and he had to protect him, he had to do what was best for him. The only way to give Harry his freedom was to give up his own.

"Hey," Harry said, voice warmer than the sunshine on the beach as he wrapped his arms around Draco's waist and buried his face in the side of Draco's neck, interrupting Draco from his thoughts. And Draco's entire soul ached.

(Read more below the cut)

"Hi yourself," he managed, keeping his voice light and cheerful.

He felt Harry grin against his neck, "How are you?" he asked as through they hadn't seen each other a mere hour ago.

"Good," he whispered, pressing back into Harry's arms, because how could he be anything else when Harry was holding him. "Did you finish that table you were building?"

"Mmhmm," he hummed, kissing the spot just behind Draco's ear that made him feel a bit weak in the knees. "I thought maybe we could eat dinner outside."

He nodded, "Let me just tidy up out here first."

"Kay," Harry replied, pressing one more smacking kiss to his neck and making Draco laugh. "I'm going to start grilling the salmon we picked up yesterday, okay?"

He nodded. "I'll be out in a minute."

Harry gave him a wave and then disappeared out of the work room, traipsing through the green house.

Draco took a steadying breath and pulled out a small phial that he filled with the sleeping draught.

Only a few more hours.

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

And the hours passed far too quickly, eating dinner, then sitting close to the ocean where the waves could wash over their feet as they drank beer and laughed up at the stars.

"Harry?" he said.

"Mmh?" the other man asked, pressing his shoulder against Draco's.

He gave him a little smile, "This is the happiest I've ever been."

Harry turned his head to look at him and smiled back, "Yeah?"

Draco nodded.

"Me too," he replied, leaning in to kiss him softly.

His heart twisted uncomfortably in his chest, squeezing and wrenching like a wet towel being wrung out. "Love you," he whispered.

He felt Harry's smile as he kissed him, mouth stretched too wide, "I love you, too," he replied.

They sat staring out over the ocean for long moments and Draco knew he had to do it now. If he let the other man take him to bed, if he let Harry tell him how happy he was and how much he loved him, he wouldn't be able to do it.

"Do you want another?" he asked, pointing to Harry's beer. "I'm going to use the loo, I can grab you one while I'm up," he offered.

Harry tilted his head back to look up at him, curls spilling across his face and catching in the breeze. "Maybe a glass of water?"

"Alright," he replied, trying to figure out what he was going to hide the sleeping potion in as he brushed a few curly strands of hair out of Harry's eyes. "Be right back, then."

Harry caught his hand and tipped his head up so he could press a kiss to the inside of Draco's wrist and he felt his eyes well up. It shouldn't be possible to feel this much, shouldn't be possible for a heart to soar and clench at the same time.

He gave Harry's hand a squeeze before releasing him and heading toward the house, taking gasping breaths as he tried to calm down, tried to force the tears and the panic away. Once inside he looked around in the kitchen, water wouldn't mask the taste of the sleeping draught, he needed to find something else.

After a moment, he pulled down the biscuits that they'd baked together the day before, setting a few out on a plate, then pouring a glass of milk that he slipped several drops of the sleeping draught into.

It took him several minutes to work up the nerve, Merlin knew that he'd never been good at being brave; it's what had landed him in the situation in the first place. Squaring his shoulders, he levitated the plate and the glasses of milk, being sure to keep track of which one he'd put the potion into, outside to the beach.

Harry laughed when he saw him, reaching out to pluck the glass of milk closest to him from the air, "You're going to make me fat," Harry said. "And then you won't love me anymore."

Draco shook his head as he sat down next to Harry, leaning over to him to kiss him, "Impossible," he murmured. He cupped Harry's cheek, brushing his thumb over his cheekbone, "There is no possible version of us where I do not fall in love with you."

A pleased grin stretched Harry's mouth wide, "I wouldn't have pegged you as a romantic," he said.

"No?" Draco asked as he picked up one of the cookies.

Harry shook his head, "I would have imagined you having sharp edges still, with practical ways to show your love, not all-" he broke off and gestured to Draco, "soft."

He shrugged one shoulder, "We've had enough sharp, haven't we?" he asked.

"Definitely," Harry agreed, taking a cookie off the plate and dunking it into the milk.

Draco swallowed against the guilt and the desire to just make it all stop.

"These turned out really well," Harry said through a mouthful of cookie. "I can't believe you'd never baked cookies before yesterday."

He smiled, "Lots of firsts here."

The corner of Harry's mouth tipped up and he leaned over to kiss Draco again, soft and sweet. "What should our next first be?" he asked when he pulled back.

"I don't know," Draco replied, watching him dunk his cookie again, the milk soaking it and making a chunk break off and sink to the bottom.

"Drat," Harry said before taking a bite out of the remainder of it. "I've always wanted to take a trip to the states," he said. "And we all know that the Ministry doesn't work well with the one in the states. We probably wouldn't even have to hide."

He hummed, watching as Harry stifled a yawn.

"I want to go to that muggle amusement park," he added.

"Alright," Draco agreed. "We'll go, then."

Harry gave him one of those guileless grins of his before starting to lift the glass of milk to his lips.

"Kiss me," Draco blurted, needing just one more kiss before the end.

The other man obliged him, "Twist my arm," he said with a wink, leaning over and drawing Draco closer, so he could kiss him.

"Sorry," Draco said when they broke apart, "Finish your milk and biscuit."

"Don't be sorry," Harry said, "I will kiss you any time, love. Literally anytime." He drained his glass of milk, making a pleased little hum when he caught the piece of the biscuit he'd lost earlier.

The effects of the potion were immediate, as they always were, Draco watched as Harry's eyes started to droop.

"Merlin," he said through a yawn, "Draco I'm exhausted all of the sudden."

He nodded, "Let's go to bed," he offered, standing up and reaching for Harry's hands.

Harry allowed himself to be tugged to his feet and he stumbled into Draco, his body sinking into him like they'd been made to fit together.

"I've got you," Draco whispered, wrapping his arm around him and holding him for a minute, memorizing the curves of his body and the way they felt pressed together. "Come on," he said after a minute.

"Don't wanna," Harry mumbled against his collarbone. "M'comfortable."

"Bed will be more comfortable," Draco assured him, nudging him toward the house.

"You'll be there, too?"

"Yeah," he whispered, knowing that his heart would live here with the other man, tucked between his ribs next to his own for safe keeping.

He managed to navigate Harry inside and they crawled into bed, Harry curled around him, drawing Harry's back against his chest and holding him.

"Love you," Harry mumbled sleepily.

"I love you too," he managed, throat tight and raw as he clutched Harry tighter and held him impossibly closer. He stayed there for longer than was strictly necessary, Harry's body was lax in his arms, he let out a soft huff snore ever few exhalations, and there wasn't a doubt in Draco's mind that the other man was in a deep sleep.

"Okay," he whispered to himself. "Okay, you've got to get up." He pressed a kiss to the soft skin on the back of Harry's neck and slid out from under him, drawing away. "Don't think about it," he muttered as he made his way out of his room, quietly closing the door.

He went to the island in the kitchen and left a note, the closest thing to a love letter he'd ever written, and laid his wand on top of it.

"Don't think about it," he repeated, opening the cupboard under the sink and digging out the old scrub brush that Granger had sent him. He took a breath and closed his eyes, not giving himself even one more moment to think and talk himself out of it, and activated the portkey.

He was sucked through time and space, and the next thing he knew his feet hit the floor in an unfamiliar living room. The door opened and Granger and Weasley came in a moment later.

"Sorry," Granger said, "We weren't sure when you were coming."

"It's fine," he said, breathing through his nose and trying to fight the tears prickling the back of his eyes.

Granger held out a parchment, "You're sure you know what you're doing?"

He nodded and reached out for the quill set out on the desk.

"Malfoy," she said, pulling the contract back, "Draco," she added, voice soft in a way that made Draco want to cry and scream. "If you sign this you can never appeal the decision the court reached. You will be in prison for the rest of your life."

"I know."

Weasley cleared his throat, "Does Harry know you're here?"

"No," he said, looking up at them. "No, I gave him a sleeping draught. He can't know until it's finalized," he added. "You saw what happened at the trial. He's so-" he shook his head, he couldn't say it, couldn't make himself voice the words. Not to them, not to anyone; they were his, all he had left, and he buried them in his chest where his heart used to be. "He can't know."

"Are you certain?" Granger asked again.

"Give it to me," he snapped. "Just give me the damn contract. I can only be tested so many fucking times and if you think leaving Harry wasn't hard enough, if you think-" He broke off, realizing that he was gasping in ragged breaths and that tears had spilled down his face. He wiped his eyes furiously. "We all know that I am not the pinnacle of valor. Doing what is right when it is difficult has never been my strong suit. So please," he said, "please stop asking me."

"You love him, too," Weasley breathed as though it was some sort of revelation.

He snatched the contract from Granger's hand and signed it before either of them could say anything else. "You said you'd have someone from the ministry ready to take me?" he said, thrusting his chin up in the air and refusing to give in to the urge to break down.

"I'm taking you," she said softly.

He nodded, "let's go, then."

"Is there anything-" Weasley started.

He shook his head and ignored the way a tear slipped down his cheek, "There is only one thing I want and we all know I can't have him."

"Come on, then," Granger said, holding out her elbow.

Just as they apparated Weasley called out, "You're a good person, Draco Malfoy."

"He's right, you know," she said when their feet hit the ground.

Draco shook his head, "I'm not, obviously," he said gesturing to the prison doors they were about to walk through. "Will you do something for me?" he asked.

She nodded, "What do you need?"

"Don't let him do anything stupid," he said.

She laughed, "I've spent my whole life failing at that."

"Tell him it's okay," he pleaded, "It's fine to move on, to live a happy life. Tell him I want that for him." He swallowed around the tears. "Tell him he deserves to be happy more than anyone, that he deserves the best life," he said, an ugly sob escaping.

Before he knew what was happening, Granger wrapped him in her arms and pulled him into an uncomfortably tight hug. "We'll figure this out," she said fiercely.

He pulled back, shaking his head and wiping his face. "Don't. And please don't say that to him."

She searched his face for a long moment and Draco tried to pull himself together. "Right," she said, nodding once and squaring her shoulders, "This way."

He closed his eyes and let the memory of the sound of the waves crashing to shore, of Harry's hand in his, and the warm sun on his face, fill him up one more time before the darkness ahead.

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

Part 8 | Part 10

#veritaserum prompt fic #part 9 #angst #angsty angst #happy ending to come #self sacrificing idiots #drarry #drarry fics #sorry this part is soooo long overdue.#I'll get it posted to AO3 asap.#<3

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arvinsescape · 3 years

Text

Free

A/N: I finally got my new laptop and was able to write again so I wrote an idea that’s been in my head for a while, it’s loosely inspired by Luther, a series that I’ve re watched recently, I hope you all enjoy.

Summary: Tom just knows you had something to do with your husbands murder. His problem? He can’t prove it.

Warnings: Swearing. Smut, unprotected sex (wrap it up, condoms are a barrier from many things), oral (Fem receiving), mentions of murder, talks of an abusive relationship. (Minors do not engage). I think that’s all.

This is purely a work of fiction. I accept constructive criticism.

W/C: 3.6K

You were driving Tom insane, he knew, in his gut, he was so sure that you had something to do with your husband’s disappearance. The case had landed itself on his desk when missing persons had deemed it a murder case, even without a body. Could he find the hard evidence that linked you to the murder? No. Was he sure it was you? A thousand per cent. Your case had been dropped months ago but he couldn’t get it or you out of his head.

“Tell me what happened?” Tom asked as he sat opposite you for the first time.

“I’ve already answered all of these questions.” You replied, Tom could tell you were nervous, you had a hard expression, but he saw straight through it.

“I don’t believe some of the answers that you gave.” He said as interlocked his hands on the desk, leaning slightly closer to you.

“I’m not really bothered what you believe, it’s what happened.” You fired back.

“People don’t just disappear.”

“Sure, they do. That’s what missing person’s is for, right?” You said as you cocked an eyebrow at him and he almost smiled, slightly enamored by the way you were handling his questioning. He’d gained a reputation for getting people to crack, but you? You seemed unfazed by his line of questioning.

Ultimately Tom had had to let you go because he couldn’t find the evidence, he needed to convict you. It drove him mad, it had him stumped for months just trying to figure out how you’d done it. How you’d evaded his thorough analysis of your property and workplace. You were smart, that was glaringly obvious to him, every time he thought he’d found something, he came up short.

A week ago, he’d found himself with a similar case on his desk, only this time the body was found. Again, there wasn’t much evidence but there were so many similarities between your case and this one. He found himself up for hours cross referencing your case file and this one, although the woman they suspected this time wasn’t as intelligent as you were, she’d lied about her alibi. Unlike you she’d said she was with a friend who denied it. You on the other hand had said you were at home all day and he couldn’t confirm that as truth and so this evidence became inadmissible in court.

He’d found himself on your doorstep, almost wanting to beg for your help, it was strange, he’d never felt like he needed anyone else’s help before yet here he was outside your door.

“Detective Holland. A man I thought I’d never seen again.” You said once you opened your door. He couldn’t help but note how beautiful you looked, he shook the thought away as he showed his badge and entered your home.

“Mrs. Leigh, I need your help.” He said in a matter-of-fact manner, he noted the small smile that had appeared on your lips and fought his own back, yours was so contagious.

“It’s Miss L/N now.” You politely corrected him.

“My apologies.”

“What could you possibly need my help with?”

“A case I’m trying to solve.”

“Forgive me but I’m not sure how I could be of help to you.” You said with furrowed brows.

“I think you could.”

He talked you through the case and his theories, all the holes in stories and suspicious behavior and you just drank it all in, nodding in certain places but ultimately you kept quiet. It wasn’t until e was done that you spoke.

“I mean, and this is all hypothetical, you’d hide the weapon in plain sight.” You answered as you made your way over to your fridge.

“That would be stupid though.” Tom said confidently, there was no way he’d missed something that was in plain sight. He watched as you pulled the bottle of wine from the fridge with a sigh. What had urged you to help him was beyond you, but a part of you knew that your case still haunted him, and you somehow felt guilty for it.

“People like you will always overlook stupid.” You said with a confidence he couldn’t quite place.

“So, you’re saying if someone wanted to hide evidence, they’d do it in plain sight because we’d overlook it?” Tom was bewildered, there was no way that this could be true, he’d spent hours going over the case files, there’s no way he missed such major evidence such as the murder weapon. He watched as you nodded mindlessly before digging through the drawer for a bottle opener.

“The autopsy report indicates a stab wound to the neck.” He continued. “They bled out. I’ve searched that house and I couldn’t find a single knife small enough to fit that wound.” He spoke. He knew the evidence for this case was in the house, the timing of everything would not have given the perpetrator any time to hide evidence away from the house.

He watched as you took the cork out of the bottle, once you’d removed the cork you placed the bottle opener on the counter, the tiny blade used for taking the paper lining off the bottle top was shining at him, almost mocking him.

“I could think of a few.” You hummed as you filled a wine glass. Tom was filled with excitement as he realized you were right, the small knife was easily concealed within the opener, he had overlooked it, not thought for a second that such a small knife was in the most basic household item.

“All I need to do is tie the murder weapon to her and case closed.” He beamed and you smiled, genuinely smiled for the first time since Tom had met you and he couldn’t help but return it, he really was enamored with you.

“Case closed.” You smiled as you sipped from your wine glass.

You had started to infect the young detective’s thoughts in a different way. He used to obsess over how you’d done it and now he was more obsessed as to why. He couldn’t understand how a woman like you, who was so quiet, kind and charismatic could have harmed another person. He started to wonder if he was wrong, if you’d had anything to do with it at all but his gut told him you did.

All the evidence for his current case came together and the victim’s wife had gone to prison for his murder, pleading guilty. She’d killed him because she wanted his money. He thought back to your case, your husband had had a lot of money, but he couldn’t see that being your motive, he couldn’t think of anything that would motivate you to murder someone. Over the time it took him to gather the evidence, he’d sought out your help more than once and he’d become enchanted by you, he found you intriguing, he wanted to get to know you better.

He wondered if that was what had brought him to your doorstep yet again. He should have been out celebrating the win, but he found himself outside your door. He knocked and wondered if you’d answer, it was late, he noted but he found himself hoping you’d open your door for him. When he heard the lock click his heart raced with excitement, he hoped you’d have that lovely smile on your face that you always had.

“Detective.” You smiled and he laughed.

“Tom.” He corrected and you smiled wider at him.

“What brings you to my doorstep Tom?”

“I wanted to thank you.”

“Thank me?”

“I’m not sure I’d have found that evidence had it not been for our chat, so thank you.”

“Well, you’re welcome. Did you want to come in? I’ve just opened a bottle of red.” You asked with that oh so contagious smile.

“How could I refuse?” He said as he made his way passed you and into the living room that he’d become so familiar with.

A bottle of red wine shared between the two later had them both feeling slightly tipsy. Tom knew he should probably make a move, but he didn’t want to, not unless you wanted him to. He found he very much enjoyed your company and wanted to stay in it as long as possible.

“Thank you for helping me finish the wine.” You smiled.

“Favor returned?” He smirked and you laughed.

“Sure. I suppose I won’t see you now.” You thought aloud.

“I suppose not.” He said, you’d moved closer to each other now, faces inches apart. “Unless you want to help me solve more cases.” He continued.

“I don’t think you’ll need my help again.” You said quietly, eyes flicking from each other’s eyes to each other’s lips.

“You never know.” He answered as quietly as you had. Tom licked his lips in anticipation, he probably shouldn’t be entertaining the idea of kissing you, but he couldn’t help it. You hummed in response as your noses brushed one an other’s. He couldn’t stop himself as he closed the small distance between you.

Your lips met in a desperate kiss, his hands finding your hair as you fisted his shirt in a desperate attempt to pull him closer to you. His mind felt blank as he became completely consumed by thoughts of you and what he wanted to do to you. He’d found you attractive the second he’d brought you in for questioning all those months ago but the more he’d gotten to know you the more he found you attractive. The rational part of his brain that was telling him this might be dangerous shut off as bit your bottom lip and you moaned slightly.

Your lips disconnected as you both needed air, both as breathless as each other. You looked at him and the look in your eyes drove him wild, your beautiful eyes were looking back at him completely list blown. He reconnected your lips as you straddled him, his hands finding your waist, lifting your shirt slightly to feel your skin.

“Bedroom?” He asked through a breath as your lips briefly disconnected.

“Upstairs, third door on the right.” You said quickly before reconnecting your lips, the kiss was hot and heavy as Tom stood, carrying you effortlessly to your bedroom, not breaking the kiss for a second. As soon as he found himself in your room, you both fell onto the bed, Tom’s back hitting the mattress. He almost moaned as you rocked your hips into his, the friction causing him to stiffen even more than he thought possible.

“You’re so fucking hot.” He said as he sat up, his lips connecting with your neck. You rolled your head back to give him more access and he took the opportunity to trail kisses down your throat, listening to the small gasps you were exhaling. He was more aroused than he’d ever been in his life, he felt completely drunk off you.

“Tom, I really want you to fuck me.” You spoke and Tom groaned at the filthy words that left your mouth, he wasn’t expecting it.

“Wanna taste you first.” He spoke as he flipped you both over, your back easily hitting the mattress as your lips reconnected. He trailed kisses down your neck as his hands went to the hem of your shirt, pulling it from you effortlessly. He unclipped your bra and threw both your shirt and bra onto the floor. Kissing down your chest as he took a nipple into his mouth, slightly grazing it with his teeth before licking and sucking at it.

Your moans grew louder, and Tom found himself entranced by the sounds you were making, he doesn’t recall ever being with anyone who sounded as pretty as you did. He continued his attention on your nipples, switching from one to the other.

“Tom, please.” You begged and he smirked against your skin.

“What?” He asked as he made eye contact with you, his fingers moving to roll your nipple.

“I need you to move lower.” You moaned.

“Whatever you want baby.” He spoke as he placed a final kiss to your breast before moving down your body.

He quickly removed your shorts and groaned when he realized you didn’t have underwear on. He looked at your glistening heat and almost moaned at how wet you were for him.

“So wet, look at this.” He said as he ran a finger through your folds. “I’ve barely touched you and your soaked.” He smirked as you rolled your head back into the pillow.

“Please.” You begged as he let out a breath over your heat, watched as you jolted slightly from the sensation. “Tom.” You moaned as he ran his tongue through your heat.

“You taste fucking amazing.” He said before practically diving in, sucking your clit as he listened to your moans. He continued to lick and suck at your clit as he heard your moans grow louder, you must have been close he thought to himself as he sucked your clit and listened to the high-pitched moan you released.

He felt as your hand moved to his hair, almost keeping him still as he continued to lick and suck at your clit, your hips bucking up to meet his movements and e found it so incredibly hot, the way you’d started to use his face to almost get yourself off was driving him wild.

You let out a moan of his name as your orgasm crashed through you, Tom felt your legs shake and helped you through your intense orgasm, feeling proud of himself for not disappointing you. Once you’d come down from your high, he pulled away, moving back up your body, your legs continuing to shake through your aftershocks.

“So perfect.” He mumbled as he gave you a quick kiss, taking in the blissful expression on your face. “Did so well for me. Fucking hot.” He said again as you removed his shirt, placing a kiss onto his chest. You continued pressing kisses to his chest as he fumbled with his belt, almost getting frustrated as it got caught.

“Here.” you said as your hands took over, taking his belt into your own hands, undoing it almost like it was second nature to you. He found it all the more of a turn on. You made short work of his pants; they found their place with the rest of the clothes on the floor of your bedroom.

“You sure you’re okay with this?” He asked.

“Yes. I want you to fuck me Tom.”

It was all the confirmation he needed as he slipped into you, both of you moaning at the contact. Fuck, you felt good, almost perfect for him. You were both a moaning mess as he thrusted into you over and over again. His hand gripping your thigh to hoist it higher around his waist. You almost screamed as he found your g spot from his new angle, your nails clawing at his back which only made him thrust into you harder.

“Fuck, that feels good, you feel so fucking amazing.” He said as he felt you clench around him. He shifted your leg higher to get an even better angle on your g spot as he continuously pounded into you, listening to your moans of his name. he felt his own orgasm approach as you tightened around him, he knew you were close, and he watched in awe as you reached your own hand to your clit and started to rub it.

“That’s it baby.” He said and after a few more thrusts he felt you come around him which brought on his own orgasm, he removed himself from your tight heat and released his load all over your stomach with a moan of your name.

It took you both a good few minutes to recover, he was collapsed on top of you as you ran your fingers through his hair. He kissed your shoulder every few minutes and found himself more happy and content than he’d been in a long time. He removed himself from the top of you and went into the bathroom to find a warm cloth to wash the two of you off.

Once you were both cleaned up he laid in your bed with your head on hi chest as you slept soundly, and he ran his hands through your hair. He was deep in thought as he thought about your case and what had happened and now he was dying to know what had driven you to commit such an act. He was so sure in his gut you’d done it but having you here in the state you were he wondered how you could harm an insect, let alone another person.

“I wish you’d tell me what happened. Just be honest, everything’s different now. I’d want you to confide in me as your partner not see me as a detective who’s looking to lock you away. Fuck Princess, I think I’d move the Earth if you asked me to.” He whispered and he meant it, he didn’t want this time with you to end, he was so infatuated with you by this point. He fell asleep after a while, thoughts of you completely on his mind.

“I need to know how you did it.” He spoke after a while of you both being awake, you were spooning now as his hand rubbed your bare skin, he pressed a kiss to your bare shoulder.

“You’ve read the file.” You spoke.

“That says you didn’t do it, but I know you did Princess.”

“My case is closed, why don’t you leave it at that?”

“I can’t. I’m obsessing over it.”

“I’ve already told you.” You said after a while and Tom furrowed his brows as he turned you onto your back so he could look at you.

“No. You haven’t.” He spoke carefully, maybe he’d missed something, a confession maybe.

“For a Detective Inspector, you can be pretty stupid.” You laughed and he thought on your words for a second. Thought about how much help you’d been and what you’d said, of course you knew how this woman had done it, it was how you’d done it. The only difference was that you’d managed to dispose of the body.

“So, you did do it?” He said quietly, a small part of him was proud he was right, his gut was never wrong, but the bigger part of him wondered why.

“You just need to prove it.” You said as a tear made its way down your cheek. Of all the things Tom expected, this wasn’t one of them, he wasn’t expecting you to cry.

“Hey,” he said as he swiped the tear away with his thumb. “Tell me what happened.” He urged in the most comforting manner he could, he needed you to know you could trust him with this.

“Have you ever felt trapped? That’s how he made me feel, like I had no way out. I tried to leave him so many times, but he wouldn’t let me, he had me by the throat and it felt like he was squeezing the life out of me.” You said through your tears and Tom’s heart dropped, this wasn’t a usual case where the wife murders the husband for a payout. “He wasn’t the nice rich guy everyone thought he was, he hit me, took all his anger out on me but I could never prove it, if I had bruises I wasn’t allowed to leave the house until they weren’t visible, which wasn’t often. I snapped.” You spoke and he pulled you into a hug.

“Y/N…” He said and you interrupted him.

“But it never matters to people like you. You don’t give leeway for the small amount of people who had no other choice. That’s why I never came clean, never admitted to what I’d done, I didn’t want him to trap me any more than he had, I didn’t want to go to prison because of him.” You said as you finally let the tears out that you’d kept in for so many months.

You hadn’t intended to kill him; it was an accident. You cried for ten minutes as Tom held you, placing comforting kisses to your temple. Something about finally telling the truth was freeing, you knew he could and would probably arrest you for this, but it felt good to finally tell someone the truth that was eating away at you.

“I’m not going to do anything.” Tom spoke after a while.

“What?” You asked through sniffles as your tears ceased.

“I understand now. You’ve been punished enough. Your secret is safe with me.” He said sincerely and you believed him, but you didn’t want to drag him down with you.

“You could lose your job, go to prison if anyone found out.” You said and he kissed your cheek.

“They won’t, your case has become a cold one. There’s still no body, I doubt they’ll reopen the case.” He said through a small smile. He didn’t want to ask what you’d done with the body, he assumed you were clever enough to make sure it was never found and if it was he would make sure none of the evidence led to you, he would make sure that all the evidence ran dry, he felt like he would do anything for you.

“So, I’m free?” You spoke, hope lacing every word.

“You’re free baby.”

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