3500 Follower Celebration: Say It Again - Sean Renard x Reader (NSFW)
Tagging: @kmc1989 @kabloswrld @words-and-seeds
Hitting bingo square: "I'm yours." "Say it again."
It’s almost violent the way that Sean loves you. It’s a furious, rampant emotion that sears through his nerve endings as he pins you against the penthouse door. He’s still wearing his shirt but his trousers are down by his ankles, his dick buried deep inside you as he fucks you like his sanity depends on you. In a way it does, because he needs you to see how much he wants you, how deep his feelings run. You’re hitched breathing rings in his ears as you bundle his shirt in your fists, grasping at the fabric as his cock rakes over that deviant little spot inside you, the one that makes you moan like a whore.
“Do you understand how much you mean to me?” He asks you, his voice a little rough. “Do you see it?”
You tilt your head away but Sean captures your jaw, gently guiding your gaze back to his.
“Madelyn, look at me.” He whispers, his nose trailing along yours. “Look into my eyes and see that I’m yours.”
You gasp as he hits that perfect place inside of you and he holds himself there, hips rocking just a little as the pleasure begins to build to a crescendo.
“Say it again.” You breathe as his thumb ghosts over your parted lips. “Please, I just need…”
He knows what you need. You crave the same thing that he does, security, reassurance. This whole thing tonight had started because you’d been forced to watch him with another woman, her hands on him, touching him, her lips ghosting over his skin as she whispered in his ear. He hates that he can’t be with you the way he wants to, that he can’t love as openly as a normal man could. To do so would put a target on your back and Sean, he just can’t do that, so he plays the game the same way he always has.
For both your sake and his.
“I’m yours.” He promises you, his thumb ghosting over the apple of your cheek. “For as long as you’ll have me, I always will be.”
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Hi! Me again, your friendly neighborhood Sean Renard lover! I was wondering if whenever you feel like writing if you would consider writing Sean being very protective over the reader and everyone is saying to him that he’s so in lover with them and he’s like “no I’m not” and then he’s like realizing that’s he’s like in love with the reader damn near devoted. Or whatever you’d like to write. I’d honestly be happy with anything you put out. But take your time, no rush needed. Just whenever you feel like it. Thank you so much!!!! Have an awesome day!!! 🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻
Genre(s)/Tag(s): Gender Neutral!Reader, Wesen!Reader, Use of nicknames (little bird), Reader is implied to have longer hair, but it’s not explicitly stated
Notes: I hope you enjoy!
TW for violence in the latter half of the oneshot (I’ll add an extra trigger warning when that starts)
“Lieutenant Renard?” Sean looks up from his desk to see Cadet Drew Wu fidgeting with his button-down cuffs. He was nineteen and green in the gills, still exploring his options as a police cadet. But even though he hadn’t fully committed to the police academy yet, he was a hard worker.
He’d make a good police officer.
Sean sets down his pen and clears his throat.
“What’s the matter, Wu?” The police cadet stepped aside, and Sean’s jaw almost dropped at the sight of you. It was as if you had come straight from a painting. It seemed you hadn’t changed at all. Well… not exactly. You had aged, being a handful of years younger than him.
But you were still as beautiful as the day he lost you.
After all, the last time he had seen you was when his mother took him, and they fled from the Royal family out for his blood. You were but a fledgling that hadn’t yet sprouted in your full glory.
You both stare at each other before Wu swallows awkwardly and takes his leave. Then, you take a seat at his desk and smile,
“It’s certainly been a while, Sean.” You say quietly, and he feels his heart stutter at your warm words.
It had been years since anyone other than his mother was so full of kindness for him.
He sets down his pen and leans his forearms on the desk.
“How did you find me?” He asks seriously, and you shrug
“I have my ways. You should know this by now.” You tease, and your eyes flash a deep glowing blue for just a second. So quick, in fact, that he almost missed it. Feathers as black as pitch shuddered down your hairline before disappearing into your tresses.
Sometimes he forgot you were wesen. A Raub-Kondor, to be exact. And a brilliant one at that. You were often employed, even at a young age, by the Royal Families to track down and “take care of” certain traitors or deserters. It was how he met you in the first place. The thought of your job made him shudder,
“Are you here to get rid of me?” At this, you looked downright offended, eyes going wide and mouth dropping open ever so slightly.
“Of course not!” You hiss, and he feels his shoulders relax. He wasn’t in danger after all. You notice his palpable relief and smile that smile that makes his heart skip a beat.
The two of you part ways with the promise of meeting up for coffee. Your number is stored safely in Sean’s phone, and you even send him a text saying, “It’s me :)” and he can’t help but smile at the little emoji. You were always lighthearted despite all the blood on your hands.
You shift in place, eyes scanning every face in the small coffee shop as you wait for Sean to arrive. You check your phone and scroll through the brief messages you had shared with your childhood friend. He wasn’t the best conversationalist via texting. He typically preferred a call over texts.
“Have you been waiting long?” Comes his voice, and you jump, knee jerking up and hitting the underside of the table. Your eyes meet his, and he offers a half smile, clearly amused by your reaction.
“Not at all. I just got here a few minutes ago. I took the liberty of ordering you a coffee, black with one sugar, if I remember right?” You say, ears burning at your surprise at his arrival. He sheds his long overcoat, drapes it over the chair across from the booth you were in, and takes a seat.
“You remember correctly. I’m surprised you remember after all this time.”
At that, you duck your head, ears burning even more in embarrassment.
“I try to remember everything about you.” You say quietly, so quietly that he can barely hear it. But obviously, he does because his face splits into a warm grin.
He looks so handsome when he smiles.
The waitress brings over your drinks and a slice of chocolate cake that you ordered. You visibly brighten at the sight of the sweet treat and nearly dig in when you remember your manners.
“Would you like some?” You offer, noting the waitress had gone through the trouble to give you an extra fork for the occasion. Sean, sipping his coffee, shakes his head.
“Thank you, but I’ll pass for now. I know how much you adore your sweets.” He teases and you roll your eyes, secretly happy that you get the chocolate dessert all to yourself.
The cake is absolutely demolished in a few minutes flat, though you were careful not to get any crumbs on your clothes. Then, you start on your coffee.
“I see you still are a sugar addict,” Sean says as you add sugar to your bitter drink. You huff but stir and take a sip of the sweetened beverage. Perfect.
“I prefer the term sugar motivated.” You say, and he chuckles, making your breath catch, but you hide it quickly by taking another sip.
You thought your crush on the bastard prince had died over the years.
Clearly not.
“So…” You start, and he looks up from his coffee, eyebrow raised. “How’s life here in Portland?” He hums, glancing around the coffee shop before answering.
“It’s certainly different than Vienna. But enough about me… Why are you here?” He asks, suddenly serious, and you have to fight the urge to sit up straight.
You should’ve guessed he would ask something like this. It had taken you years to track him down to the Portland area. And for what? But you knew better than to lie.
So…
You didn’t.
“I missed you. As stupid as it sounds, I missed having someone to talk to. Well… that and your mother is concerned about you joining the police department. She’s worried it’ll put a target on your back.” You say, and Sean sits back in his chair, stirring his coffee absentmindedly as he mulls over your words.
“I appreciate the concern, but I’ll be fine. I’m surrounded by good people.” He says, and you raise an eyebrow skeptically. Thankfully, Sean takes your concern seriously. He always has.
“But what if things go wrong?” You ask, and he shrugs a shoulder.
“If it makes you feel any better, you are more than welcome to stay here in Portland to keep an eye on me.” You smile at his words,
“I’d like that.”
Despite your promises to keep out of the way, you quickly become absorbed into his little work family. As the years go on and the precinct grows, you are always a constant at his side. You attend his promotion ceremony from his previous ranks to precinct captain, and he holds your gaze the entire time as he gives his speech.
Even as people come up and congratulate him, he finds himself only wanting your attention. He couldn’t care less about everyone else.
He feels a smaller hand slip into his, and he looks to find you smiling up at him. He sets down his glass of champagne, still mildly embarrassed that the precinct threw this shindig for him.
“Congratulations, Sean.” You whisper, and he hides a smile, but you still catch the twitch of his lips, and your smile widens.
He’s about to say something, but you are both interrupted.
“Is this your spouse?” Hank Griffin, homicide detective, and one of the most senior staff at the department. He’s followed by the newer homicide detective and his new work partner, Nick Burkhardt. Sean huffs out a dry laugh and shakes his head,
“Nothing like that. They’re a childhood friend, that’s all.” He says, and Hank nods, not entirely convinced.
Why was everyone doing that when he introduced you? Hell, even Wu didn’t seem to believe him.
Later, Sean spies you chatting with Nick as you raid the dessert table. You’re polite, and he feels his heart clench as Nick says something to make you laugh. Feathers shift down your hairline like they did whenever you half-woged, and he sees Nick’s face drop, but he hides the expression by the time you look up from your sweets. And that makes the clenched feeling in Sean’s heart twist more.
Was he a Grimm?
He’d have to look into this more.
Sean, ever the gentleman, walks you to your car after the celebration of his promotion. You, feeling adventurous, slip your hand into his and swing them back and forth ever so slightly.
Surprisingly, he doesn’t complain. He even squeezes your hand.
“I just wanted to say congratulations again.” You say as he opens your car door. You squeeze his hand once more, and he offers a quick quirk of his lips that you almost miss.
“I couldn’t have done it without you, little bird.” He says and presses a soft kiss to your knuckles. You feel your cheeks heat up and hide an embarrassed smile.
He always was the cheeky one.
Feeling a bit bold, you lean out our car window just as he leans down to presumably tell you goodbye and kiss his cheek. He freezes, eyes widening ever so slightly in shock, but he doesn’t say anything.
He remains like that as you drive away, brushing his cheek with his fingers.
You chew on your lip as you watch him disappear in your rearview mirror.
Hopefully, you didn’t mess things up by doing that.
You don’t hear from Sean for several days. And it’s making you nervous. Had you overstepped your boundaries? Had you misread the signs from all your little coffee outings?
The book in front of you failed to hold your attention as you glanced from the words on the page to the cellular device next to you. After another thirty minutes, just when you were about to give up on reading, your phone buzzed.
Buzz… buzz buzz… buzz buzz…
The book was hastily bookmarked, and you scooped up the phone and swiped right to answer the call.
“Hello?” You said, trying to seem… well… not breathless or like you were anticipating the call.
“Are you busy?” Sean asks, sounding ragged as if he had been working for three days straight.
His new promotion must be wearing him down.
“I was just reading. Is everything okay?” You ask and hear a quiet hum on the other end.
“Might I invite you to dinner tonight?” Your heart skips a beat.
Dinner… that was a step up from coffee dates.
A big step up.
You make a noise to let him know you hadn’t died at the suggestion (though you certainly felt like you were about to pass out).
“I suppose I might be free tonight. Let's say we eat at seven o’clock?” You tease him gently and hear him write something down.
“I’ll pick you up.” He says, and you can’t help but smile.
“That sounds lovely.”
VIOLENCE STARTS HERE
Dinner doesn’t go as planned.
Sean’s car rumbles as he waits for you to come out of your hotel room. He had offered to let you stay with him at his new house; he had a spare bedroom after all, but you had declined. Instead, you had told him you were a big kid and could take care of yourself.
A shadow moved inside your hotel room on the second floor, and he looked up, a frown pulling his lips down. What was taking you so long? You hadn’t even responded to his text saying he had arrived. Should he call you?
He pulls up your contact and is about to press the call button when you come exploding through the window in a rain of glass and chaos.
Coincidentally, you land on the hood of his car, and his airbags deploy as you cave in the metal.
There’s someone on top of you, hands wrapped around your neck and squeezing like your life depended on it. He can see your hands going limp, and he darts from his car and draws his gun that he keeps with him at all times.
“PORTLAND PD! DON’T MOVE!” He bellows, and the person jerks their head up to look at him, eyes wild and glowing yellow.
A Mauvais Dentes.
The sabertoothed wesen leaped at him as he felt his face change in his woge.
He fired.
BANG! BANG! BANG!
The man fell, his woge rippling across his skin and retracting the fangs and fur into his body until he looked like a regular man again.
Sean ran to your side, where you lay gasping on top of his car, pulling out his phone and dialing 911 as he went.
“911, what’s the location of your emergency?”
“This is Captain Sean Renard of the Portland Police Department. There’s a man who’s been killed and someone else who is gravely injured.” He started and rattled off your address, begging first responders to hurry because you looked terrible.
You had been in the middle of getting ready—a blouse stained in blood and shredded to bits, trousers, and you weren’t wearing shoes. Your throat isn’t much better. Sean can see where the Mauvais Denetes had punctured your skin, and its oozing blood at a sluggish pace. Your woge ripples under your skin and the tar-black feathers retract into your face. Your beak disappears, and when you open your eyes, they’re glassy.
“Stay with me, little bird, stay with me.” He says as he sheds his suit coat and tears it into strips to tie around your wound to hopefully staunch the bleeding.
“Sean?” You gurgle, and he hushes you,
“Don’t speak. An ambulance is on the way.” He says, and you nod once, closing your eyes again, and he listens to your breathing.
It doesn’t sound good.
He only hopes that you make it to the hospital.
Time slows. The ambulance and police arrive after what feels like hours. Blood has stained Sean’s trousers, but he doesn’t care. All that matters is you.
The first responders load you carefully into the ambulance and stop Sean before he can get in with you.
“I’m riding with them.” He snarled, and the two workers looked at each other before one stepped aside and allowed him to sit beside you. He holds your hand until they hook you up to get your vitals. You open your eyes again and wheeze,
“Sean?” You gasp, and he holds your grasping fingers.
“I’m here, little bird.” He whispers, and his heart is broken as he hears you whimper.
“Don’t leave me.” You whimper, and he stands as the ambulance rumbles into motion and presses a kiss to your forehead,
“Never.” He says and knows deep in his soul that he means it.
☆ it's a little confused all the time but he gets the spirit !!! unconditionally supportive of everything even if he makes casual banter and jokes abt it
☆ tries to cook for you whenever he has the chance after work, it rarely works out though because he can't cook 💔 but it's the thought that counts
☆ lets you wear his leather jacket all the time, he complains abt not having it at work when it's cold but he'd rather him be cold instead of you being cold when he could've prevented it
☆ takes you to the trailer surprisingly often, it becomes sort of a safe haven for him as only him, monroe, and you know abt it. he likes rereading the books while you find new hidey holes
monroe:
☆ your own personal heater fr ‼️ blutbaden run on a higher temp than the avg human so he's always warm and toasty even when it's cold out
☆ he loves giving gifts, he's always fixing up antique and vintage clocks that remind him of you (which happens to be a lot of the clocks). he even makes a couple of pocket watches for you to always have w your person
☆ can actually cook, granted it's vegetarian and even sometimes vegan but it's the good vegan food. he's always looking to try new recipes from pinterest bc he's an avid pinterest user
☆ plays the cello when you're having trouble sleeping, he's always happy and eager to help so he ends up having the cello by the bed along with sheet music of lullabies
sean renard:
☆ SUGAR DADDY TO THE MAX 🗣‼️‼️ he's always buying and spoiling you w random shit that you glanced at while walking around. even gives you a credit card that is automatically paid for
☆ doesn't necessarily talk or name-drop you to any of his family or the precinct, but it is well known (at least to the precinct) that he's taken
☆ has people waiting on you hand and foot, you basically get the royalty treatment without the fame and danger of it. he still does heavy background and monitors the people though without them knowing
☆ only allows himself to relax around you, while it's not fully relaxed it's as relaxed as renard can be. he lets you hold him occasionally but mostly it's him holding you to his chest protectively
Hey!!! Love your work!!! I was wondering if you could write literally anything about Sean Renard maybe some tooth rotting fluff. I just love him and it’s sad that not many people know about Grimm or even write about it.
“You look like shit.” You blurt the second Sean Renard opens the door to his own home. He scowls down at you, and you scowl right back. There’s deep bags under his eyes and a sickly parlor to his sweat soaked skin. He’s dressed in a rumpled hoodie and sweatpants that you didn’t even know he owned.
Since when did he own sweatpants?
Or a hoodie for that matter?
And what’s even worse, he can barely stand up straight, leaning heavily on the doorframe.
“You’re so kind.” He says and opens the door wider so you can come inside.
You make your way to the dining room where you set bags of groceries on the table and turn with your hands on your hips.
“When you said you were sick, I didn’t think you were literally dying.” You say as you give him a once over as he stuffs his hands in his hoodie pockets.
“I’m not dying.” He says and you roll your eyes,
“Coulda fooled me. I didn’t even know you owned sweatpants.” You turn back to your bags and rifle through them, tossing him a bottle of Gatorade and gesturing for him to go sit down.
You meander your way around his kitchen, cleaning the dirty dishes and disinfecting the counters before pulling out some ingredients for a simple chicken noodle soup.
It was a classic and easy and good for someone who was sick. Especially the giant of a man who was sprawled out on the couch in the living room.
As you cook, you put the tea kettle on and keep an eye on him. You’re able to spot his head lolling back against the couch pillows and you can hear the tell tale sound of book pages turning and the occasional sniffling.
Typically he’s at least in the kitchen with you while you cook. But you figured you’d make an exception just this once.
Soon enough, the food is done and you bring a mug of herbal tea and a bowl of soup on a TV dinner tray where Sean is waiting. He’a reading some philosophy book that you don’t care to read the title of. You can see where he’s marked certain passages or used miscellaneous scraps of paper as bookmarks.
He always did love a good book.
“Did you start that book I lent you?” You ask as you set down the tray and start cleaning up his space. Random book piles are straightened on the coffee table and old dishes are taken to the sink.
He really must be sick if his house is this messy.
Sean sits up and sets his book atop the most recent pile of books. These ones are in various languages that you can’t even begin to read. French. Arabic. Russian. And was that Latin? Who even wrote Latin books anymore?
“I started it. Couldn’t get into it.” Sean says, snapping you from your musings. You hum as you take the half finished Gatorade and hand him the soup. He says a quiet thank you before digging in.
“It takes a bit to get going. But I think you’ll like it eventually. If not, I have plenty of other things to recommend to you.” You reply and he merely grunts through a mouthful of noodles. You finish folding a blanket and flop into the armchair beside the couch, letting him eat in a warm, blissful silence.
“You don’t have to stay, you know.” Sean says as he follows you up the stairs and into his bedroom. You begin to rifle through his en-suite bathroom cabinets, looking for a thermometer.
It’s nowhere to be found.
“Yeah and ten bucks says you don’t make it to bed before passing out.” You retort absentmindedly, jerking up to look into the bedroom when you hear a thump.
It was just Sean tossing his book on the bedside table.
You huff and gently push him toward the bed. He moves without complaint and part of you wished he’d get sick more often. It wasn’t often that he was so obedient.
Luckily, Sean has some NyQuil in his cabinets so you pour him a dose and his nose scrunches as he makes a face.
“No thanks. I’m fine.” He tries, and you very nearly force his jaw open to pour it down his throat yourself.
“Drink this and don’t argue with me.” You say, exasperated.
After some back and forth, Sean finally takes the medicine and sags back into bed. You lean forward and press the back of your hand to his forehead,
“You’re burning up. Hopefully the meds will help.” You mumble and he catches your hand as you go to move away.
“Thank you.” He says seriously and you grin, reaching back to smooth his hair back over his sweaty forehead.
“It’s not a problem. I’m just a phone call away if you need me.” You say and lean down to press a quick kiss to his lips.
Could you do a request with Sean Renard “A little less fight and a little more spark” or maybe “how can you stand to be so cruel?”
You aren’t the type of woman that Sean usually entertains, he usually goes upmarket. Women with money, sophisticated, power. It’s part of the game he plays, the one that he was born into. Each and every seduction gets him one step closer to his goal, the crown.
There’s nothing to gained by sleeping with you. There’s no favours to be exchanged, or battles to be won. You’re practically blue collar, so many rungs down the ladder that you shouldn’t even be in his purview but you are, you have been since you stepped into his Squad Room.
When Sean takes you to bed it’s because he wants to be with a woman who loves him for who he is, not for what he can give them. He forgets about the trappings of his position and for the first time in his life, he’s just a man falling for a woman, one that cares about him just as much as he cares about her.
That’s what tonight is really about, intimacy, connection.
When he’s with you it’s not about the fight he’s been waging for decades with his family, it’s about the spark, the one that only exists when he’s with you.
Matthew Keller, Wade Grey, John Nolan, and now Sean Renard?! 😍😍 GIRL, IT’S LIKE YOU’RE IN MY HEAD!!!!
If you do write for Sean, please could I request “keeping you down on your knees”
Thank you!!
Great minds, the two of us! Defo keep prompting for Sean and the others, I love writing them! So this ended up more Eric than Sean but it's Sean adjecent.
There’s blood in your mouth, you can taste the copper on your tongue as you spit burgundy onto the marble tiles beneath your knees. You have no idea where you are, only that you’re kneeling in front of Sean’s sociopathic brother. Your hands are secured behind your back, the steel cuffs digging into the flesh of your wrists, you try to wrench at them again but they hold firm, cold and unrelenting.
“You know, I don’t understand what my brother sees in you.” Eric drawls as he towers above you. He clasps your jaw between his fingers, the leather of his glove kissing your skin as he forces your head up to meet his gaze. “You aren’t even pretty.”
You bare your teeth as his thumb smears blood over the outline of your lips. He pulls his hand away just in time as you try to bite him, cackling as the hand on your shoulder yanks you back.
“Oh you’re spirited, I’ll give you that.” He smiles as he grasps your jaw again, harder this time, the tips of his fingers digging into your flesh. He leans in close, his mouth covering yours. You try to pull away but he holds you in place, biting down hard on your lower lip, the skin split beneath his teeth.
His mouth is bloody when he pulls away, crimson painting skin. His thumb traces over his lower lip, chasing away the stain before he tilts his head, surveying you with a renewed interest.
“Maybe I’ll keep you after all.”
Love Renard? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.
Also, the reader is frequently described wearing suits, heels (once or twice), and masks. Such things (I think at least) are gender-neutral items of clothing.
Tags: possessive behavior (by Eric), use of Y/N (twice),
He met you at a gala the city had roped him into. It took place in Portland, something hosted by the city that he had to attend. He was the Portland PD’s police captain, after all.
You were dressed in an all-white suit and trousers, the only pops of color being the blood-red rose pinned to your lapel and the glass of wine in your hand. The interesting part about you was that you wore an elaborate white mask decorated with rhinestones and silver accents. You were easily the most well-dressed person at the gala.
But initially, Sean paid you no mind.
There was no reason to, after all.
I thought I saw the devil, this morning
Looking in the mirror, drop of rum on my tongue
With the warning to help me see myself clearer
I never meant to start a fire
I never meant to make you bleed
I'll be a better man today
“Ah, my dearest brother.” Came a familiar voice, and Sean tensed. He knew that voice. Turning, he smiled that fake smile he reserved for his family at the sight of Eric. You were on his arm, hand holding onto his elbow delicately.
“Eric.” He said, forcing a pleasant tone into his voice. Best pretend he didn’t want his brother dead by his own hands.
“You haven’t met my Y/N, have you?” Eric continued, oblivious to Sean’s murderous intent.
Sean raised an eyebrow.
“Your?” He inquired, and Eric grinned that serpent grin of his.
“Of course. I own them, a gift from their family, really.” He said, and Sean noticed how you tensed. Eric saw as well,
“Oh, don’t get upset, pet. You know it’s true.”
I'll be good, I'll be good
And I'll love the world, like I should
Yeah, I'll be good, I'll be good
For all of the times that I never could
He saw you again in his office the day after the gala. He had been in the middle of paperwork when there was a knock on the door. Sergeant Drew Wu peeked his head in.
“Sir? There’s a Y/N L/N here to see you. They didn’t say what it was about, only that they wanted to see you.” He said, and Sean looked up from his papers. What did you want?
“Send them in.” He found himself saying, and Sergeant Wu nodded.
You were shown in a moment later. Again, you were dressed in a suit and mask. This time, it was a dark brown tweed suit with black shoes with a modest heel. Your mask was elaborate. This time, it was brown, with a matching maple leaf covering one eye.
“What can I help you with?” He asked, keeping it strictly business. It was best that way—no need to get things messier by interacting with the royal family any more than he had to.
“I want you to kill Eric.” You said, closing the office door behind you so you wouldn’t be interrupted.
So much for keeping things clean.
“And why should I do that?” He asked, though he really didn’t need a reason to consider it. He already had some sort of plan. Anything to keep him away from Nick Burkhardt. He couldn’t have him kidnapping the Grimm and messing up his plans.
“Because I can’t be trapped by him anymore.” You said, a note of desperation bleeding into your voice.
“I’ll consider it.” He said and felt his heart twang when you smiled.
My past has tasted bitter for years now
So I wield an iron fist
Grace is just weakness
Or so I've been told
I've been cold, I've been merciless
But the blood on my hands scares me to death
Maybe I'm waking up today
The next time he saw you, he met with Eric for dinner. It was more for diplomacy and to keep up appearances than anything. You were dressed in a black suit with gold butterfly designs and a beautiful golden mask with butterfly wings on either side of your eyes.
“Glad you could join us!” Eric grasped Sean’s arms and grinned. Always with that serpent grin of his. Like he knew something, others didn’t. You stood uncomfortably behind him, clasping your hands together as you nodded in greeting to Sean.
Dinner was awkward, to say the least. You ate silently, and Sean noticed that Eric had his hand on your knee the entire meal. Whether it was to keep you from speaking or not, he didn’t know. But he had a suspicion that you weren’t quiet of your own free will.
I'll be good, I'll be good
And I'll love the world, like I should
I'll be good, I'll be good
I'll be good, I'll be good
Sean managed to get you alone after Eric passed out on the couch from too much wine. You were in the kitchen, washing the dishes when Sean approached from behind. Perhaps it had been a mistake because you whirled the second you heard his footsteps and attempted to stab him with a kitchen knife.
When you realized it was him, your face twisted with remorse,
“I thought you were Eric.” You whispered, and he felt a pang of guilt. He hadn’t killed Eric yet, he needed more time, but it was clearly messing with you.
“He’ll be out of your way soon. I promise.” He said in return and again felt that twang in his heart as you smiled a sad sort of smile.
For all of the light that I shut out
For all of the innocent things that I doubt
For all of the bruises I've caused and the tears
For all of the things that I've done all these years
Yeah, for all of the sparks that I've stomped out
For all of the perfect things that I doubt
It wasn’t long before your relationship crossed the line between professional and personal, especially after Eric’s subsequent death. The moment you heard about the explosion that took Eric’s life, you wept tears of joy.
That was the first time you kissed him—in his office with the blinds drawn and the door shut.
When you realized what you had done, you attempted to flee, but Sean pulled you back in and kissed you again.
I'll be good, I'll be good
And I'll love the world, like I should
Yeah, I'll be good, I'll be good
For all of the times I never could
When Diana came into the picture, he thought for sure that you would leave him. Who would want a bastard prince that was half Zauberbiest? But instead, you drew him and Diana in closer, becoming something of a second (or third?) parent to the growing child.
You loved him, and that was more than he could ask for.
Ooh oh oh
Ooh oh oh
Ooh oh oh
For all of the times I never could
It was no secret that Sean Renard wasn’t a good man.
He manipulated people. He had people killed. He killed people himself.
It was no secret that Sean Renard wasn’t a good man.
