#this is an absolute jumble of thoughts sorry

[chthonic-cassandra]

So, I read the first 10 Charlaine Harris Sookie Stackhouse books over the past month (interspersed of course with other books so I didn't lose my mind). I might read the remaining volumes eventually, but these were the ones I physically had in my possession.

I've been largely enjoying them, though the quality ebbs and flows and some of the books are so incoherently paced that they stop being fun and begin to become extremely difficult to get through. At their best, they strike a fine balance between vampire drama and quotidian detail, making good use of Sookie's almost absurdly optimistic narrative voice, which I think either charms you or drives you out of your mind.

(Representative episode: in book two, Sookie is traveling on a special vampire-accommodating airline to a job using her telepathic powers to assist a vampire leader in another state. She's never been on an airplane before, and tells us, the readers, how impressed she is at the politeness of the flight attendants and the beverages they offer. At length.)

It has something in common with both Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Sunshine, all three of which were released roughly contemporaneously and center around a young woman with supernatural powers who is trying to live a normal life but has to deal with vampire drama. All three texts are interested in humor and horror, vampires and everyday life, abrupt tonal shifts. All of them try to keep vampires as horrific figures (to varying degrees) while also building in a vampire-human romance. I'm sure all three works were influenced by each other (Buffy and Angel get a direct nod in Harris' work), but there's something interesting about the convergence. Sunshine is very much my favorite, of course.

I still find Harris' direct analogizing of vampires to oppressed minorities in our world offensive, as I did when I first learned the premise of the books and tv show, though I've softened enough as a consumer of vampire media to be interested in it. The basic frame - something shifts in the world so that vampires no longer need to prey on humans to survive, and the question of how both they and the humans adjust to that - is an interesting piece of world-building.

I don't think Harris is always up to the task of grappling with the moral dimensions of it, of dealing with vampires who have killed many people no longer needing to. The books are at their weakest when Harris runs herself into a corner with the amount of violence that happens to, around, and by Sookie, when we as the readers are supposed to take some parts of seriously and shrug off others. I'd be interested in the darker version of the story, but wouldn't I always?

The vampire characters are often fun, though softened too much for my taste by the need to have Sookie be never too much in danger by characters we are supposed to like (Eric was more interesting when he was more of an antagonist; I suspect this is not an unpopular opinion among readers).

I have now gone back to the tv show, which I am finding more engaging after reading the books; a lot of this I think is about bracing myself for the sex scenes, which I found pretty unwatchable the first time I tried. The show is being rather more direct and intentional in how it deals with race and sexuality, though I am reserving judgement so far about how well it does at that.

The best part of the books by far is of course Queen Sophie.

[padfootastic]

My unpopular opinion is that if Peter weren’t fat and ugly then Sirius/Peter would be an extremely popular and mainstream ship, while Wolfstar would be a rarepair and Prongsfoot would stay as it is now - because i see prongsfoot as a ship for people who love to see Sirius in a healthy and balanced relationship. Wolfstar and Sirius/Peter are/would be for people who love the drama and the emotional turmoil.

dude. DUDE. i fully agree with this. i think a large part of how peter is treated/used/characterised stems from his physicality. it's almost like a woke parallel to jkr's beauty morality politics.

i literally cannot even tell u how often i've been annoyed by the way peter gets treated by the marauder fandom, specifically. because yeah, i get not everyone's gonna like a snivelling rat but--the corner of the fandom that operates purely on fanon and has changed everyone's character? yeah, zero excuses there.

not just the fact that peter often gets zero romantic/sexual attachments (and lets not even talk ab the 'ace/aro hcs bc hes fundamentally unloveable/so ugly no one wants him') even in spaces where's he's redeemed, but even if he's still a bad guy, so what? this is the fandom that's casually redeemed regulus black, barty crouch, all the other assortment of DEs. i dont get why peter's always the one who gets left behind. (i mean,,,,i kinda do,,,but yeah, idk what their rationale is)

and then theres also the peter art oh my god. it just. there's nothing technically wrong with any of it, but the way peter--a canonically fat guy--is drawn (often very infantilised and non-sexually, even wehn everyone around him is thirst trapped up) vs say, lily--who's the hot new 'plus size' rep--who always gets to be slim-thicc, very fkn sexy, and just overall fun. it's just. it icks me out, ykno?

and then the relationships, of fucking course the ship would be more popular, dude. like, its classic enemies to lovers, classic passion and intensity that can fall on either side of the coin. u can play around a lot with it. and honestly, peter & sirius had way more interactions/moments/chemistry than remus/sirius, like that's my unpopular moment right there lmao

overall, yeah, i get what u mean and i second it. fat characters are not written the best bc its often just a facsimile of how irl fat people are treated and we all know how that goes.

[sttoru]

toji with a whiny bratty gf :3

tags. mean dom!toji x female reader. manhandling, mating press, daddy kink, degradation, breeding, size difference, toji calls u ‘little girl’ & ‘ma’ at the end.

you had lost count of how many times you’ve begged toji to forgive you for your behaviour earlier. he had you pinned to the couch, body pressed into a mating press with your big, beefy boyfriend hovering inches above your face.

it all happened because you were acting up while toji was on the phone. he was calling his agent regarding some business and that’s when you randomly decided to be a brat. you were teasing him by ‘unintentionally’ grinding against his crotch as you cuddled.

toji tried to make you to stop by giving you death stares, tightening his grip on your waist and gritting his teeth. despite all of that, you still acted like you didn’t know the impact your actions had on him.

once the call ended, the phone went flying onto the carpet beneath you. you were easily flipped on your back and your clothes were ripped off in under a few seconds. there was a fire in toji’s eyes; you were not getting away from his wrath this time.

“sorry—‘m sorry, daddy! nhhh, sorry!” your hands were clenching onto toji’s biceps, his arms on either side of your body. toji was steadying himself on his arms which made the veins on them even more visible.

your pussy was forced to stretch out and accommodate to toji’s thick girth as he currently didn’t possess the mercy to give you a break, “too late now, ain’t it?”

there was no backing out now. you had asked for it the moment you decided to tease him. toji had given you enough warnings beforehand to remind you of the consequences of such foolish actions,

“where’d that bratty attitude go, hm?” toji scoffs. your confidence from earlier had gone extinct as you were reduced to a whiny, teary-eyed mess underneath him;

“ya really thought i’d let you off the hook after that shit you pulled?” toji mocks you with a mean grin, “tha’s real cute.”

you sobbed and your words were getting a bit jumbled up from the way your boyfriend was using and abusing your overstimulated pussy to release his frustrations, “mmnhh ! n-never doin’ again— never d-doin’ it again,”

your promising words were answered by a simple haughty chuckle. toji knew that you’d do it again. you like to be a brat and you absolutely love the reaction you get out of him each time. you enjoyed the thrill of messing around with a man like him who could easily manhandle you and get what he wants, whenever he wants.

the teasing on your part was all fun and games until it wasn’t anymore and toji’s degrading and fucking you brainless. he always had the last laugh. that’s how your relationship is.

“t-toji— mhhhngg ! please..” your plea was left unfinished once you felt more pressure on your body—toji putting more of his weight on you to hit deeper into your cunt. your eyes rolled back and your lips were parted to let out soft moans instead of proper words.

“fuckin’ pathetic,” toji grunts, savouring the way your small body was struggling underneath him. your entire vision was obstructed by his bulky physique. it’s all you could see through the tears; “my little girl jus’ needed a cock to shut that pretty mouth up.”

you nod along to his words since, at this point, you couldn’t even think straight anymore. it truly felt like you were being broken by your boyfriend as your legs were stuck in the air, his hips slamming against yours in an inhuman pace, his balls clenching as toji desperately wanted to fill your womb up to the brim with his seed—breeding you full, which gave him a sense of ownership over you in the heat of the moment.

and once he eventually finished and dumped his big load into you?

“ass up, ma.”

toji’s already putting you in another position. even if his dick went limp after having his earlier orgasm; he knows he’ll be hard again in under a few seconds. he can easily cum over and over, as long as his semen was well-spent and put in your cunt.

you weren’t going to catch a break today.

[beenbaanbuun]

cockwarming w/ san

words - wordcount? not round here, partner 🤠

genre - fluff, nsfw

warnings - stressed!reader, dom!san, sub!reader, subspace, guidance, soft!san (both him and his penis), cockwarming, clothed, san manspreading…

——————————————————————————

thinking about cockwarming sannie… am i absolutely feral? definitely! ANYWAYS!!!!

you’re sitting on the floor, glasses slipping down your nose as you stare at the documents in front of you

not many of then make sense, but that could just be the tediousness of reading them setting in and slowing down your weary brain

all the words are moulding into one and entire paragraphs are jumbling together as you desperately try and focus

you so desperately want to reach for your phone and give yourself a break

but you remind yourself that you’re just looking for distractions which is really not what you need when you’re struggling to focus anyway

so you start from the top, attempting to read the paper from the beginning

and you don’t get very far when you hear the front door open and your attention once again slips away from the paper

you turn slightly, just enough to see san step into the apartment and take his shoes and coat off

the way his shoulders sink in relaxation is visible and he lets out a long, deep sigh of relief at finally being home

your papers are almost forgotten as you watch him make his way towards the armchair in the corner of the room and take a seat

in fact, as he relaxes, spreading his thighs out until there’s a perfect you-sized gap between them, the papers are the last thing on your mind

“hi, pretty,” he croons as he shuffles to get himself comfy, “good day?”

you nod, mouth going dry at the way his hand naturally falls to rest just inches from his crotch, his pretty fingers flexing a few times before settling against his thigh

his beautiful, thick thigh that is almost fully exposed by those little gym shorts he insists on wearing

you stare at it for a moment or two, noticing the way it flexes slightly against the hem

his honey skin is still slightly shiny from the residual sweat of his evening workout

just the thought of him using his pretty thigh muscles to lift himself up from a squat is enough to send your brain into a dizzy haze

“looks like you’ve been working hard,” he smiles, head dipping to gesture to the pile of forgotten papers on the table, “is that research for your thesis?”

it is, you think to yourself, not that you’d actually learned anything from reading, sorry, trying to read any of it

“yeah,” you answer him, “but it’s all so boring than i can barely even look at it without wanting to die. i’ve been at it for hours and i can’t tell you a single thing i’ve read.”

there’s a pout on your face as you mumble out your complaints; you’re adorable when you’re all moody like this

“learning isn’t linear, baby,” he chuckles, “the fact that nothing’s sticking in that little brain of yours probably my just means you need a break.”

“i’d love a break,” you admit, “but i’d also love to get through this pile of research by the time we go to bed, so…”

“so… take a break and go back to it later,” san shrugs, “not like all that paper is suddenly going to grow legs and run away, right?”

you scoff at his sarcasm and the smug look on his face, but you know he’s right; you probably should take a break…

“but i know if i take a break i won’t want to do it anymore,” you say, although the excuse sounds weak even to you

“then do it tomorrow; it’s not like it needs to be done tonight, honey,” and he’s right, so you nod, and he smiles

but the feeling of stress doesn’t go away as you pile up the sheets of paper in the centre of the coffee table

and it doesn’t go away as you save your thesis draft and close the lid to your laptop

your shoulders are still very stiff, and your head is still feeling weary from just how hard you’d been trying to focus

even when you slip your glasses off, a physical weight lifting from your face, your brain doesn’t slow down

it just doesn’t let you settle like you and san so badly want you to

he watches you fidget with your surroundings, eyes flicking to the pile of papers every so often whilst your fingers drum against the table restlessly

he sighs; clearly you’re going to need some help with this

“baby,” he says softly; you look at him and all he can see is stress written across your features, “do you want me to help you relax?”

your eyes flick over to him, still manspreading in the chair and looking the the picture of masculinity itself

you know it wouldn’t take long for him to silence your brain; not when he already has your brain feeling a little on the foggy side

you nod, mumbling out a small ‘please’ that he can barely hear

“come here then, baby,” he pats the inside of his thigh with his palm, the sound ringing around the room, “come sit with me, yeah?”

it takes a second for you to register what he’s asking you to do, but when it finally does, you feel your breath hitch in your throat

he hasn’t closed his legs for you to sit on, and the hand that rests on his thigh doesn’t shift to make space for you

why would it when there’s already a you-shaped space between his thighs?

you watch as he reaches behind him to grab the cushion from the chair, pulling it out and placing it on the floor between his feet

you cant stop the soft whimper that leaves your throat

“come on, pretty thing,” he coos, “you know it’ll help you.”

and you do know that, you really do

it’s exactly the push you know you need to take your mind off of everything, and holy fuck do you want it

so you shuffle towards him on your knees, inching closer and closer to that spot that seemed to be just made for you

he smiles at you as he watches you settle in on the cushion, the plush material taking the pressure of the cold, hard floorboards off of your delicate knees

you shuffle around a little, trying to get comfy before looking up at him, wide eyes looking into his own

and he can’t help but brush a hand across your cheek, chucking as you lean into his gentle touch

“my precious girl, aren’t you?” he whispers, running a thumb over you cheekbone, “working so hard; you’re so good, aren’t you?”

he shifts his hand until two of his fingers press against your lips

you separate them to allow his digits inside of the warm, wet cavern; he can’t help but fill with pride when he sees just how good you’re being

the tips of his fingers slide to the back of your tongue, caressing it slightly until he feels your throat constrict around them

he pulls them back slightly, instead pushing them down on the centre of your tongue to make your drool puddle up around them

“just let yourself stop thinking, okay?” he says as he plays with your tongue, “you’re too stressed, baby, and it’s not good for you.”

he caresses your wet muscle with his fingertips; you let your eyes flutter closed at the sensation

“turn your brain off for me,” his voice is soft as he talks you down into an all-too-familiar headspace, “be good for your big boy, hm? let me take care of you.”

and with the combination of your position between his legs, the fingers in your mouth, and his pretty words, you find it so incredibly easy to just… slip away

any thought of your thesis is gone and replaced with san

the worries about finishing on time, and the concerns about the reading you don’t quite understand; san

everything is just… san

you let out a small sound as you push your head down onto his hand, taking more of his fingers into your mouth

the weight of them on your tongue was nice, you decide, but not quite enough

they don’t quite hold the warmth and heaviness that your tongue is craving

it’s not quite enough to completely ground you like you know you need

“you want more?” he always has been so good at reading you; you nod around his fingers, “want your big boy’s cock in your mouth?”

you moan at the thought, desperately moving your head up and down to tell him yes

“does my precious girl want to warm her big boy up? is that it?” yes, yes, a million times yes, “want to wrap your pretty lips around me while you relax, hm?”

he chuckles when you pull off of his fingers and sit there looking at him through your lashes with a slack jaw

so pretty, he thinks when you stick your tongue out and blink up at him through those fluttery lashes of yours

pretty enough that you have him wrapped around your pinky finger

he really would do anything to make you happy, and it seems that what would make you happy right now is him in your mouth

so he wastes no time in reaching for his waistband and pushing it down his thighs to reveal his soft cock

he takes it in hand and holds it out for you, waiting patiently as you lean forwards to press a kiss to his pretty pink tip

“no teasing, baby,” he taps the blunt head against your lips, “open for me. warm me up like a good girl.”

his voice is smooth and buttery, and it makes you want to listen

you open you maw, rolling your tongue over your bottom lip and waiting for him to feed himself into your mouth

there’s a hand at the back of your head as his tip makes contact with the pink muscle

the hand pets your hair softly as it guides you onto the cock, pushing you further and further down until your mouth is stuffed almost completely full

“breathe through your nose, baby,” san instructs you as he pushes the tip of his cock to the back of your tongue, “come on, pretty girl; i know you know how.”

you don’t need the reminder, having done this plenty of times before, but you still like the guidance he gives you in that low cadence

you like his voice, and the way he tells you what to do because he knows just how much you don’t want to think right now

you close your eyes as you feel your nose brush against the smooth, sticky skin of his lower stomach

his freshly shaved pubes prickle you, but that’s the least of your concerns when your senses are just overloaded by the comfort of your boyfriend

the smell of his cologne mixed with his natural musk settles in your nostrils filling you to the brim with the familiar scent of home

and the way he sits in your mouth, hot and heavy and full makes you melt against his muscular thigh like it’s your own personal pillow

his hand on your head threads its fingers through your roots, fingernails scraping against your scalp in the most comforting way imaginable

a deep sigh leaves your mouth; one of relaxation and contentment

san hears it and feels his body ease into the chair

“good girl,” he hums, “so good for me.”

[leona-hawthorne]

LIKE THIS / mattheo riddle

drabble

mattheo riddle x fem reader

warnings: male masturbation, perverted themes, handjob, innocent!reader, inexperienced!reader, lowkey pervert!mattheo, literally no plot

words: 945

navigation mattheo riddle masterlist

He hadn’t meant for it to come to this point. You just looked so cute in your little black uniform skirt, the same one you wore almost everyday, but you’d forgotten your robes today and ended up revealing everything. Who could blame him?

It wasn’t his fault that he got a raging boner when you sat down next to him like usual with your skirt riding up your thighs as you crossed your legs. You may as well have held up a sign with neon lights and arrows pointing to you that said “Fuck me!”

And then came your sweet voice. “Hey Mattheo.” Oh, and that sweet smile. He felt like he was about to fall apart.

“Morning.” He forced a smile, groaning internally as he slid his hips down farther towards the edge of his chair so the bulge in his pants would be covered by the desk.

Getting through class was absolute torture.

He didn’t learn a single thing, the professor’s words getting jumbled up in his head. He just wanted to grab you, drag you to the nearest closet, and fuck that sweetness out of you. But you were just a friend, less than that even. Just class partners that made friendly conversation.

You could never find out about the nasty, perverted thoughts that bounce around his skull when he sees you, every disgusting fantasy about ruining you. You’d hate him for it, right?

That’s why he’s in his dorm now, barely five minutes after class ended, hand wrapped around his painfully hard cock. In his mind, he pictured your usual sweet smile as you were bent over his desk in that tiny skirt, waiting for him with your perfect ass in the air.

Laying on his bed with his eyes sewn shut as he fucked his fist, the image of you was clear in his mind. Everything felt perfect. His only mistake? Not locking his door.

He’d been so distracted with the thought of you, with the urge to release all the tension you’d unknowingly caused in his body, that in his desperate haze to relieve himself, he forgot to lock his door.

And you, poor, sweet, innocent you, had noticed that in his rush to get out of the classroom, he dropped his sketchbook, something so special and personal to him. So, being the kind girl that you are, of course you picked it up, careful not to open a single page in respect of his privacy, and carried it up to his dorm after asking his friend Theo for the room number.

With a swift, polite knock, you open the door with a kind smile. “Mattheo, sorry to barge in but you—” Your words are cut short at the sight in front of you, the sketchbook dropping to the floor with a thud.

Mattheo’s eyes are wide as he makes eye contact with you and the movement of his hands stop for a moment. You can see his adam's apple bob up and down in his throat nervously as his eyes rake over your body but he quickly regains his composure when he sees your thighs clench together at the sight of him.

He got back to work with a smug, cocky smirk on his face, fucking his fist as he watches your eyes lock in on his length, almost as if you were in a trance, like you’d never seen a dick in person before.

Maybe you really hadn’t. Fuck, why was that idea so hot to him? What kind of filthy little pervert was he?

But he had no time to pay attention to the voices in his head ridiculing him, when he noticed your figure walking closer to him. His movements became more erratic, his hips involuntarily bucking up into his fist, your widened, innocent eyes bringing him closer to the edge.

Your feet carry you to the edge of his bed without even realizing and suddenly, he’s right there. You can’t even bring yourself to wonder why he hasn’t stopped yet, why he’s looking straight at your face as he jerks himself off. You don't want to overstep any boundaries but you can’t help the curiosity that takes over you, inching closer and closer.

He pulls his hand away from himself and brings it to yours, gently grasping your fingers before bringing your soft, uncalloused touch to his dick, moving slowly as though to make sure you know you can pull away if you want to. His cock twitches at the mere sight of you touching him.

“Like this, baby.” He whispers, guiding your hand up and down his shaft and showing you what to do to make him feel good. You oblige mindlessly, dazed in a lusty haze at the situation. He unwillingly thrusts up into your hand, needing you to go faster and you take the hint, speeding up the pace of your hand. It’s not long before he cums on your hands and you become entranced in the feeling of having his pleasure at your mercy.

“Fuck, princess.” He groaned. “Really fuckin’ testing my patience with that skirt today, hm?”

“I didn’t know.” Your voice comes out in a soft murmur, eyes trained on the sight of his release leaking around your fingers as you continue to pump his cock in your hand.

“Oh, yeah? You didn’t know? Right, Ms. Sweet and Innocent didn’t know that bending over to pick up a quill in front of me would make me fucking hard.” He mocks you before laughing cruelly and pulling you down onto his lap. “Well, guess what? You’re gonna be fixing these problems you cause me from now on.”

[slytherinslut0]

MATTHEO RIDDLE- Beg For Me

Chapter Twenty Three-Info:you and Mattheo have been butting heads for months, since you were assigned as his tutor, and one day during a session full of tense bickering, he has enough.

(This will essentially be a toxic book where we are Theos fucktoy. No love here, very minimal fluff.)

Tags: 18+, SMUT, Heartbreak, ANGST AF, Dirty Talk, PIV, Praise Kink, Slight Degradation, Semi-Public Sex.

FIND THE REST OF THE CHAPTERS HERE.

"Hello? Anyone home?"

Emily's voice echoed through the air of your dorm room, her eyes widening in disbelief as she took in your drenched appearance. There you stood, next to your bed, trapped in the labyrinth of your thoughts, most likely looking like you had genuinely lost your ever-loving mind.

At last, you jerked your head up, locking eyes with her. "Apologies, Em...I'm just utterly drained. Honestly didn't even hear you come in."

"Why are you absolutely soaked?" Emily's tone switched to an almost amused drawl, one you could tell she was attempting to suppress. Her eyes narrowed as she assessed your waterlogged state. "Weren't you with Mattheo?"

Your cheeks flushed under her scrutiny, and you shifted uncomfortably before responding. "Yeah," you admitted, your tone slightly sheepish. "It's a bit of a story, really...Malfoy essentially dared me to jump in the lake, and, well, I couldn't resist the challenge."

Amusement twinkled in Emily's eyes as she settled onto her bed, her curiosity piqued. "Well, that's one way to make a splash," she quipped, a playful smirk gracing her lips. "So, spill the details. Is there some progress being made with those arsehats?"

You cleared your throat, a nervous smile playing on your lips. "I'm trying," you confessed, your voice laced with uncertainty. "It's a work in progress, but I think we're getting there, slowly but surely."

Emily nodded knowingly, her lips curving into a smirk. "Well, if anyone can handle a bunch of mischievous daredevils, it's you," she remarked, her tone dripping with sarcasm. "Just be careful, yeah?"

"Of course," you replied, managing a meek smile despite the uneasy knot tightening in your chest. "Where were you tonight?”

Almost instantly, Emily's demeanor shifted, her gaze darting away, fixated on her fingers as she nervously twirled her chapstick. "I, uh...I was with Tom," she stammered, her voice trailing off uncertainly.

A sudden wave of realization crashed over you, leaving you feeling as if you were adrift in a stormy sea. Emily was with Tom?

You blinked, struggling to find the right words. "You-"

"I think I like him," she confessed, the words emerging strained, as if pulled through clenched teeth, her eyes avoiding yours. "I...I think I really like him..."

Her confession hung in the air, heavy with tension, sending shockwaves through your entire being. Your heart pounded in your chest, each beat reverberating in the silence that followed. You stood there, motionless, breathless, your mind trying to grasp the reality of her revelation. What on earth was fucking happening?

Sensing your stunned reaction, Emily hurriedly left her bed, closing the distance between you two. Her eyes met yours, filled with regret and apology.

"I'm so incredibly sorry," she began, her words tumbling out in a jumbled mess. "I mean, on the night of the party, we connected, and we kissed, and I haven't been able to shake those feelings since...I know you and Tom have been seeing eachother for a while, and I've felt terrible about this whole situation...I'm the worst friend, and I can't believe I let it get to this point...I just...I understand if you hate me or never want to talk to me again-"

"Emily," you interjected, your voice breaking through the heavy silence, your shock slowly giving way to a strange sense of understanding. Despite the chaos in your own life, you couldn't muster any anger. In fact, her revelation felt like a bizarre twist of fate, a surreal kind of perfect. "Me and Tom...we were never anything...I've never had any genuine feelings for Tom, not like that anyway..." you confessed, your words hanging in the air. "It's okay, Em...it's seriously more than okay."

Her eyes, brimming with guilt, met yours. "No… it isn't," she murmured, her fingers absently pushing a strand of hair off her forehead. "I just...I feel like the world's worst friend...I've been keeping secrets and hiding things from you...and that's not like us...I genuinely bloody hate myself for this…”

Her words hit you like a sledgehammer, the weight of your own secrets crashing down on you. How could you judge her when you were harbouring your own tangled emotions for Mattheo? Guilt clawed at your insides, a bitter reminder of your own deception, making it impossible to feel anything but empathy for Emily's confession.

Gently, your touch on her arm was a soft plea for understanding. "Em, please be kind to yourself," you implored, your voice carrying the weight of your own inner turmoil. "I'm far from perfect, and I completely understand...you don't ever have to be scared to tell me anything, I'll always be on your side..."

The desire to confide in her about Mattheo tugged at your heartstrings, but a tempest of conflicting thoughts raged within you. You longed to unburden yourself, to share the intricacies of your emotions--yet, doubts clouded your mind.

You questioned the wisdom of revealing a truth that seemed destined for heartbreak; one that was destined to go no where, especially after Mattheo's own cautionary words. The fear of shattering the fragile semblance of normalcy you'd managed to maintain held you back, leaving you caught between the honesty you craved and the security of your well-guarded secret.

"You're the greatest friend...I don't deserve you," Emily released a long sigh, meeting your eyes softly. "Are you sure you're not upset? I swear I'll never fucking talk to him again if-"

"No! No, Emily...I'm not upset," you said, through chuckles. You were upset, but it had nothing to do with her. "I want you to be happy, Em...Dumbledore once told me that if someone makes you feel, let them..."

"Gods, that man could make a bloody brick wall tear up," she breathed, finally cracking a smile, as though you'd lifted a weight off her shoulders. "I have to say though...I just don't know how you didn't fall for him...I mean, his fucking eyes alone had me melting..."

You released a breath, unable to swallow your smirk. Yeah, his eyes were beautiful, but only because they served as a reminder of Mattheo's--whose deep brown pools were nothing other than completely fucking captivating.

"I know," you said, your voice distant, lost in your thoughts as you stared into the distance. "Tom is wonderful," you continued, your words almost a whisper, the syllables heavy with unspoken sentiments. "It's just that, my heart...it wasn't in it."

Emily's brows furrowed with realization, her eyes darting across your face as though she could read the unsaid words swirling within your irises. "Where is your heart, then?"

Emily's question hung in the air, patiently awaiting your response, but your thoughts were elsewhere, entirely consumed by Mattheo. His captivating eyes, that tousled brown hair, and his infuriatingly complicated demeanor dominated your mind. Despite his dangerous reputation, he had always been your sanctuary--from the way he protected you to the depths of pleasure he led you to, he ignited desires you were hesitant to acknowledge.

Since the day you met him, you had been drawn in, entangled in a web of emotions you couldn't escape. The fear of succumbing to your desires warred with the undeniable pull he had on your heart, leaving you submerged in a sea of uncertainty, unsure if there was a way out of the depths you had willingly plunged into.

Meeting Emily's eyes, you could only confess, "I don't know," your voice tinged with desperation, as if seeking an answer that seemed just out of reach. "I...I have no fucking idea anymore..."

Her face dropped, shock etching lines across her features as she took a few delicate steps back, studying your face intensely. The intensity of her scrutiny made you nervous, your heart pounding so loudly you could almost hear it. You knew she had just realized precisely what the fuck was going on with you lately. You knew she'd finally fucking cracked your code.

You looked away, unable to maintain eye contact, and in a hushed tone, she said, "oh, Gods no...you...he's-he's such an asshole..."

"Yes, he is..." tension gripped your entire being, your body vibrating with nausea as you struggled to find the words. You couldn't bring yourself to meet Emily's eyes, your gaze fixed on the floor as you whispered, "but there's still good in him..."

Emily's eyes widened in disbelief, her shock palpable as she struggled to comprehend your words. "You're going to destroy yourself trying to fix him," she said, her voice edged with desperation. A heavy pause filled the room before she continued, her voice quivering, "He's done terrible things, remember when he sent that poor third year into the infirmary-"

"We've all done terrible things, haven't we?" you shot back, finally looking up at her. The intensity in your gaze matched the fierce determination in your voice. "We're all just sinners judging sinners for sinning differently, but no one ever bloody stops to ask why..."

Your steps were slow, but deliberate, each one echoing with the resonance of your unwavering determination as you closed some of the distance between you and Emily. The intensity in your eyes burned brightly, reflecting the depth of your emotions.

You were acutely aware of how utterly insane you must sound, how irrational and illogical your words might appear to her. Yet, in the depths of your heart, you longed for her understanding, for her to grasp the complexities that lay beneath the surface. You yearned for her to realize that there was a profound depth to your emotions, a truth far more intricate than what met the eye.

"Yeah, maybe he's bad...maybe he's completely fucking terrible," you said, your voice carrying a potent mix of fervor and defiance. "But when he smiles…when I look into his stupid, big eyes...all I see is the good in him..."

A profound silence hung in the air, pregnant with the weight of your words. You gauged Emily's reaction, observing the flicker of disbelief and uncertainty that played across her features.

"I made a promise...to Dumbledore...to myself...to Mattheo," you continued, your voice unwavering, each syllable resonating with unshakable resolve. "A promise that I'd fucking stand by him...that I'd show him patience and compassion...who would I be if I gave up on that?"

"Yeah, but..." Emily's eyes widened, her throat tightening as she struggled to find words to counter your conviction. "He's...he's a monster..."

"He's broken," you retorted, your tone unyielding, the depth of your empathy for Mattheo underscoring your words. "I don't care what happens to me, Em...I am a woman of my word..."

Emily swallowed. "Your heart is far too pure...your heart is going to ruin your future..."

"So be it." You said, flatly, steeling your shoulders as you released a long breath. "I am coming for all the ghosts that have ever haunted him...I am coming for all the demons that twisted his dreams and turned him into the fucking nightmare that he is, and I am going to be theirs, instead."

Without waiting for Emily's response, you brushed past her, your heart racing with anxiety over the fact that you had essentially revealed the truth about your relationship with Mattheo. The weight of your confession hung heavy on your shoulders, but you needed to clear your head. Silently, you made your way out of the dormitory, the echo of your footsteps reverberating in the empty corridor.

The familiar path to the prefects' washroom felt like a lifeline, leading you to the one person who could provide the reassurance you craved. Just as you made your way into the hall, the door creaked open, and a familiar brunette exited, her sly grin sending a shiver down your spine as her eyes met yours. Recognition struck you like a lightning bolt--it was the girl from the library, the one who had been intimately close to Mattheo all those weeks ago. As she disappeared from your view, your stomach plummeted, anxiety tightening into a nauseating knot.

With your heart heavy and anxiety clawing at your throat, you mustered the strength to push open the door. Inside, you found Mattheo, leaning wearily against the sink. His eyes, usually filled with intensity, were dulled by fatigue. His head was bowed, and his shoulders slumped, burdened by the weight of unseen struggles. He remained fully dressed, his appearance reflecting the weariness that mirrored your own inner turmoil.

"What was that?" you questioned, your voice trembling, and your chin quivering with vulnerability, your eyes pleading for an explanation that might soothe the turmoil within. "I thought we were okay?"

The sight of that girl leaving the washroom shattered the reassurance you had desperately sought. Doubts consumed you, racing through your mind like a storm. Had your recent fight driven that big of a wedge between you and Mattheo? Was he seeking solace in someone else's company because he was done with you? The questions multiplied, suffocating you with uncertainty. Your voice emerged as a cracked whisper, breaking the tense silence that hung between you both as Mattheo slowly met your eyes.

"Are we ever bloody okay, Raven?" His voice, laced with a tinge of exhaustion, fell flat, his eyes dark and cold as they bored into you. The endless depths of his gaze seemed impenetrable, hiding any flicker of emotion that might have offered solace. "I'm not even sure what you're going on about, truthfully,"

"The girl," your voice wavered, your vulnerability laid bare, "the same one from the library all that time ago...I just saw her leaving."

Mattheo grumbled irritably, the tension in the room palpable as he pushed off from the sink with a heavy sigh, his movements betraying his exasperation. He spun around, the muscles in his jaw clenched, his eyes stormy with frustration as he leaned back against the counter. His arms crossed over his chest defensively, his entire posture radiating a mix of annoyance and defiance.

"That girl is nothing to me, Raven," he declared, his voice low and gravelly, the words carrying a hint of irritation as he tried to emphasize his point. "Nothing at all."

You desperately wanted to believe him, to cling to his words like a lifeline, but doubt gnawed at your insides, poisoning your thoughts. After everything that had transpired between you, after your last fight, and the way he was acting now, you couldn't simply brush it aside.

"Nothing, huh?" Your voice grew firmer, laced with a mixture of hurt and skepticism. "So it's just a coincidence that you two were alone in here...and that she was grinning ear to ear when she left..."

Mattheo blinked, his surprise evident as he processed your words. This jealousy was uncharacteristic of you, a stark deviation from your usual composed self. His features contorted with a mixture of confusion and frustration, his eyes narrowing and jaw clenching in response to your accusation.

"Do you think I fucked her, Raven?" His words hung in the charged atmosphere, heavy with hurt and disbelief. Each syllable cut through the air, a searing venom that struck your heart like a dagger. "Do you actually fucking think that low of me?"

The raw pain in his eyes mirrored your own, a painful reflection of the trust that had been shattered between you, the wounds now gaping wide open, begging for resolution.

"You don't trust me..." Mattheo's expressions hardened further, his eyes blazing with a mixture of frustration and hurt. The room seemed to shrink around you as he pushed off from the sink, his movements deliberate and forceful, closing the distance between you before you could react. "You don't fucking trust me, do you?"

You tensed, every muscle in your body coiling like a tightly wound spring, bracing for the emotional storm that was about to engulf you. Mattheo stopped abruptly, his instincts sensing your reaction, his intense gaze locking onto yours. Your breathing became shallow, your chest constricted, and time seemed to stretch into eternity as you stood there, suspended in the moment.

"I want to..." your voice wavered, a fragile whisper barely audible in the heavy silence, carrying the weight of your longing and doubt. "But...I just...can't, when there you are...directly in front of me, still so fucking far away..."

You took a moment to study his features, the turmoil in his eyes, the tension in his jaw, and the vulnerability that flickered beneath his anger. His chest rose and fell with every ragged breath, as though his heart was laid bare before you.

"A man with a shield for a heart, and a sword for a tongue," you continued, your voice a fragile thread weaving through the charged air. "How do I confide in that?"

Mattheo's eyes softened, just slightly, the storm within them giving way to a glimmer of sincerity. In that moment, he shed every ounce of hesitation, closing the space between you with an urgency that spoke volumes. His hands found your face, cupping it gently, forcing your eyes to meet his. The intensity in his touch, the tenderness in his gaze, told a story of its own.

"Raven...do you think I fucking care about anything other than you?" His voice, once sharp with frustration, now held a raw, earnest sincerity that cut through the lingering doubts and insecurities. "You're the only one I need...you're the only one that keeps me high..."

Your heart thundered in your chest, the sound echoing in your ears like a war drum, each beat reverberating with the intensity of his touch. His palms, warm against your cool skin, sent waves of heat through every inch of your body, cocooning you in a haze of desire and vulnerability. You blinked, your eyes unable to tear away from the depth of his stare.

"But?" you dared to whisper, your voice barely audible amidst the charged silence, the lump in your throat growing with each passing second. "I know you aren't finished, I see it in your expression..."

He stiffened, his hands slowly falling from your face, the loss of his touch leaving a void. His gaze, dark and intense, traced a path from your eyes down to your lips, the unspoken longing palpable between your bodies. The pain that hung in the air was almost tangible, the emotions that coursed through both of you reaching a fever pitch.

"When you close your eyes...when you think of this...of us, what do you see?" He whispered, his voice a mere breath, the words hanging in the air like a delicate thread. "Do you see a future, Raven?"

The question slammed into your lungs like a sledgehammer, stealing the very air from your chest.  You had never truly considered what was going to happen at the end of the school year, but it was evident that he had, his eyes haunted by the uncertainty of the future.

You sucked in a lungful of breath, trapping it there, the oxygen feeling suffocating against the weight of his question. "I...I don't know..."

"Exactly," he murmured, his voice as soft as a breeze, but carrying the weight of an entire universe. "Something's telling me we're running out of time here, Raven...I always said I'd never deserve you, and I meant that..." he paused, averting his eyes only for a moment as he threaded an unsteady hand through his hair. "If we keep this going...something's bound to give...I can't let you throw away your future for me..."

You stalled, pain rushing through you. This whirlwind of emotions felt like a chaotic storm, each moment with him a battle between your hearts, oscillating from fiery arguments to heartbreaking distance. The constant push and pull had left you emotionally battered, but this time, the pain cut deeper than ever before.

"No...Mattheo...I..." your voice stammered, trembling with the intensity of your emotions. "I would much rather be nowhere with you, than somewhere without you..."

He stiffened, his entire being seeming to freeze in response to your words. "No, Raven, come on...don't fucking say that," he hissed, his voice laced with desperation. "You will not throw away your future for me...for whatever this is...you have to know that is fucking insane..."

"Mattheo, why?" you whispered, your voice breaking as you took a step closer, your heart aching with the weight of his decision. "Why are you doing this...I'm sorry, okay? I'm sorry for everything I said...I didn't-"

"It's not about that," he cut you off, his tone soft yet resolute. "It's not about any of that. We both know this only ends in blood...why prolong it...I’d never be able to live with myself if I ruined everything you’ve worked so hard for…”

Your chest ached, a visceral pain that radiated through every fiber of your being, your eyes darting all over his face as though seeking solace in the contours of his skin, as if something tangible could save you from this nightmare. He was right. Of course, he was absolutely fucking right. There was nothing you could say to deny his words, the harsh reality of your situation hanging heavy between you.

"I know you're right Mattheo," gently, you brought a trembling hand up to his face, your thumb brushing over his cheek as you cupped the side of his head, your own head tilting slightly as you glimpsed his lips, whispering with a vulnerability that laid bare your soul. "But even if it's meant to fall apart...I still fucking want you..."

"I know," he murmured, his breath warm against your skin, his lips hovering just millimeters from yours. "I fucking know..."

"I'm scared as bloody hell, Mattheo..." you continued, your fingers digging slightly into his skin, his hands seeking refuge on your hips as he pulled you closer against him. "I'm fucking terrified to want you, yet here I am anyway..."

"I'm scared too, Raven..." he confessed, his voice barely audible, pulling you impossibly closer, your bodies melding into one another. "Godric fucking forbid I ever admit it..."

His lips brushed against yours, soft and tender, a delicate touch that held the weight of a thousand unspoken words. In that moment, you knew, without a shadow of doubt, that you two were one and the fucking same. He was more yourself than you ever were. Whatever your souls were made of, his and yours were intertwined in an indescribable connection.

"Give me this before you go..." you whispered, your free hand gripping his shirt for dear life, your voice laced with desperation and longing. "Please..."

Mattheo pulled back slightly, his eyes scanning your face, searching for any sign of hesitation or uncertainty. "Are you sure?"

"Yes," without a moment's hesitation, you nodded, your eyes locked onto his, your conviction unwavering. "I'm sure."

In an instant, he pulled you back into him, his lips crashing onto yours in a searing kiss, the intensity mirroring the state of your crumbling relationship. His hands, strong and sure, quickly slithered up your sides, finding the buttons on your shirt.

Simultaneously, your trembling fingers mirrored his movements, undoing his shirt with a fervor that matched his own. The kiss deepened, your mouths melding together in a desperate attempt to drown out the world, seeking solace in each other's touch as you shed the barriers between you. The passion between your bodies consumed every ounce of your being, a wild, untamed force that pushed back against the chaos threatening to tear you apart.

As soon as the two of you were freed of your uniforms, Mattheo pulled back, his gaze intense, his eyes smouldering against your skin as he urged you to your knees in front of him. Without a word, you obeyed, staring up at him with a widened gaze, tracing the features of his face and chest that you admittedly loved so fucking much. Mattheo's eyes were doing the same, flickering over your curves, the swell of your breasts, the flare of your hips, until finally, they came to rest between your legs.

“You’re fucking beautiful…” he brought a hand up to your chin, tilting your head back to bring your eyes to his, the pad of his rough thumb tracing over your bottom lip, tugging it down slightly before releasing it. “Don’t you think I’d chose some other bitch over you ever fucking again.”

Breath evaporated as he dropped down to his knees in front of you without warning, directing you to lay back, your head resting on a stack of clean towels.

The cool tile of the floor made your back arch and your body shudder as Mattheo loomed over you, his fingers tracing delicate patterns over your thighs as he hovered mere inches above your skin. Each touch was soft, almost reverent, as though he was worshipping every inch of your body. As he leant down to kiss you, his lips were tender yet demanding, his tongue sweeping over yours in a fierce, fiery embrace. You groaned into his mouth, your hands finding his hair and gripping tightly, until he broke the kiss and began to move lower.

His eyes travelled down your neck, reaching your chest where your breasts rose and fell with each exasperated, eager breath. His mouth descended upon one of them, suckling and teasing with skillful precision, making your head dizzy with burning need. It was as though he was worshipping at a sacred alter, paying homage to the very essence of your womanhood, his nails digging into your skin, chaining you to him with more restraint than any bloody shackles ever could.

His tongue traced spirals around your nipple, sending little shocks of electricity straight through to your core, and you mewled, back arching into him and grip tightening in his hair, silently begging for more. As expected, Mattheo delivered, lavishing attention on each peak in turn, flicking his tongue, sucking, and teasing until you were practically crying for release.

"Matty...please…" you whispered as his lips moved lower, tracing a path of heat toward your sex. "There's no time...someone could come in..."

"Eager girl..." Mattheo hummed, smirking against your skin. "Told you you'd love the way I fuck you."

Unable to suppress it, you smirked at his normal arrogance as he pulled back slowly, your eyes following his every move as he freed himself; letting loose that delicious, familiar groan from deep in his throat as he pumped his shaft a few times, his gaze darting over your body, desperate and writhing beneath him--each meticulous movement he made causing an insatiable tingle within your core.

"Mhm," you murmured, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth as your hands grazed over his strong biceps, feeling the muscle tense and contract beneath your touch. "That's what I love...the way you fuck me..."

Mattheo blinked, meeting your eyes, a wicked smile creeping across his lips as he processed what you'd just said. The underlying message in your words went unspoken despite their intentions hanging heavy in the air, and without a word, he slid his free hand down between your legs, shifting your panties to the side before he gently teased and swirled over your clit, making you moan out his name without even realizing it. 

"My filthy little girl..." the anticipation was almost unbearable, you were fucking dripping for him and he'd hardly even touched you. "Always so fucking eager for me…”

Inching forward, he aligned himself with your core, leaning down over you, a strong arm taking purchase beside your head, caging you beneath him. As he pushed inside you, the stretch was unlike anything you'd ever fucking felt--the lack of foreplay resulting in a sensation unlike anything else, a perfect blend of agony and ecstasy, as if he was stretching you open and shaping you just for him.

You whimpered softly, doing your best to muffle your noises as Mattheo pushed deeper and deeper, pausing for a moment once he'd fully seated himself inside your heat, giving you a second to adjust to his thick, throbbing length--his eyes never once left yours, his gaze drilling into you as he assessed your reactions, only breaking the eye contact to press a soft kiss to your forehead.

"So fucking tight...fuck-you feel so fucking good..." Mattheo growled lowly, his voice thick with lust--your walls clenching and relaxing around him simultaneously. "Such a good girl, Raven...feel yourself adjust for me, baby."

His voice had a hypnotic effect on you, calming your racing heart and making you focus solely on the feelings coursing through your body. The pain was gone, a mere figment of your imagination as you revelled in the closeness of your bodies, his hot skin on yours, breathing eachother in, your mind reeling with the thoughts of this being the last time--something you'd both said many times before.

But for some reason, this time felt different. This time felt real.

"Fuck me, Matty..." you whispered, nails digging into his back as if trying to anchor yourself to this moment, to him. "Fuck me like you're going to lose me."

"Fuck...am I, Raven?" Mattheo groaned in response, meeting your eyes with an intensity that took your breath away, slowly beginning to increase his pace to your desires. "Am I going to fucking lose you?"

Mattheo's thrusts became harder and more aggressive as his movements grew more frenzied, his mind getting lost in the haze of lust swirling between you. The sounds of his skin slapping against yours filled the room, matching the sound of his heavy breathing, a whirlwind of emotions coursing through the air.

"N-no, Matty..." you choked, feeling the pleasure building within you like a storm waiting to break. It was almost too much, and you found tears on the verge of exploding from your fucking eyes. "You couldn't...even if you tried..."

"Fuck...I know..." he hissed, the words forced through gritted teeth as he met your eyes, your nails certainly splitting the skin on his back, shredding it raw. "I always know exactly how you feel when I'm deep inside you like this...those eyes don't fucking lie..."

You gasped, the words unable to form as Mattheo pulled out almost completely before slamming back in, hitting that deep place inside your body that made you cry out in toe-curling pleasure. His face was twisted into an intense frown, growling in concentration as he fucked you harder, faster, hitting places you didn't know possible.

"You love this cock, don't you?" Mattheo growled, knowing full well the answer. "You're so fucking wet for me."

"Oh...yes, I do-" you squealed, burying your reddened face back into the crook of his shoulder, pleasure ricocheting through every ounce of your body as his fingers slid down your stomach, quickly teasing over your clit. "Fuck-Matty...oh..."

"You want to cum for me, pretty girl?" he growled, nibbling at your earlobe as he shifted his position, drilling deeper into you. "Let me feel you..."

"I-I want..." the words wouldn't form. Nothing would articulate inside your brain. Yes, you wanted release, but that's not what you were trying to say here. You wanted him, you wanted this, you wanted all of it, never to end. But as he swirled your clit with rough, aggressive strokes, your brain was mush, succumbing to nothing but his touch. "I-I want you...in...I-"

"I'm in you, Raven..." a grunt when he slammed into you--his voice tight, strained, almost pained, lips pressed against your temple. "I'm so fucking deep in you..."

Another shift, and he was striking your cervix with every thrust--and the pain was enough to pop the balloon in your chest. Tears streamed down your cheeks, the pending heartache and insecurity finally breaking through the dam of emotions you had kept bottled up for months. The weight of it all was too much, overwhelming you in a tidal wave of despair. Mattheo's movements remained unyielding, his pace unfaltering, but he was swift to kiss away your tears, his own breath hitched in anticipation of the climax that was about to consume both of you.

"Oh-fuck...Matty..." only a few more thrusts, and you were there, teetering right on the edge of coming undone. “Oh…”

He growled. “Cum for me angel…fuck-“

"Yes-yes, fuck..." you keened, dragged through your climax without question, euphoria tearing through you as your walls pulsed and milked his cock.

He groaned, gripping you tighter as he poured himself into you, hips bucking until the only sensation left was sweaty, heaving, post-orgasmic rapture. And despite that, you held each other, unwilling to move, unwilling to let the other person leave the safety of the embrace.

It was a long moment--long after your breathing had returned to normal, long after you'd both dripped sweat onto each other's skin--before he moved, rolling off of you, gaze roaming your figure. You wiped your damp cheeks with the back of your hand, not daring to make eye contact with him as the two of you slowly began to redress, an awkward silence filling the air.

After both of you had regained modesty, Mattheo’s eyes locked onto yours, his unspoken emotions echoing in the intensity of his gaze. Without uttering a single word, he pulled you into him, his arms enveloping your body, holding you with a grip that felt as if he never wanted to let go, suffocating your lungs in the best way possible. As his hand moved to cup the back of your head, his fingers intertwining into your hair, you felt his throat bobbing against your temple as he swallowed, his vulnerability laid bare in the gentle caress of his touch.

“That girl,” his voice was a low murmur, as though he feared shattering the fragile moment, “she asked me to the masquerade this weekend…I said no.”

You chewed your cheek, your fingers clinging onto his shirt with force, your voice trembling as you responded, “You should go...it might be good to redirect the attention off of us…your friends seem suspicious.”

“Oh, they are…” he chuckled, his hand absentmindedly petting your hair, his touch comforting and reassuring. “But I told Nott to ask you, and only Nott, so if any of the others approach you about it, let me know.”

Your cheeks burned at the revelation, his laughter vibrating through your body, your heart skipping a beat in response. “You told Nott to ask me to the masquerade? Why?”

“He’s the only one I trust not to be a fucking pig,” he replied, his tone flat and honest. “Pretty sure Zabini or Malfoy would try to get you under them before the night even started.”

You huffed, a smirk playing on your lips as you pressed against his chest. Taking a moment to revel in his scent, his cologne, his body heat.

“Is this really it for us, Mattheo?” you murmured, your voice laced with a hint of desperation. “I mean…am I just supposed to be your friend, now? Your mentor? Your tutor?”

“Maybe we just take a break, hm?” he suggested, his voice dropping, his gaze softening as he met your eyes. “Maybe just until the suspicion dies off…until we both have had some time to cool down.”

“I…okay,” you said, your eyelids fluttering as he released you, the weight of the situation sinking in. “I can work with that.”

The acceptance in your voice was laden with bittersweet resignation, a temporary reprieve in the face of an uncertain future.

————————

Chapter 24->

[love-quinn]

— GOOGLE REVIEWS

summary — carmen's never been good with his words, so when he finds you crying in the walk-in, he gets some help to convince you that you're capable of doing your job.

warnings — swearing, general customer-service nightmare stuff. reader is younger than carmen but i pictured/wrote her as being mid-late twenties (25-28 ish) and i think carmy is early 30s so there's an age gap but they're both fully adults, also boss/employee relationship so power imbalance but also nothing happens between them

pairing — carmen berzatto x fem!waitress reader, not established relationship

pronouns — she/her

word count — 1.9k

note — first carmen fic so obligatory warning that he might be OOC, i rlly work on dialogue and shit but i am finding my footing. waitress!reader is kinda special to me i might write some more about them cause they're both so silly if that's something people would be interested in? anyway i hope you enjoy :3

“Stupid… fucking useless- fuck!”

The rush is familiar. The lunch rush, the dinner rush, the fifteen different orders jumbling in your head as you struggle to write it all down in time. Holding nine full glasses of nine different drinks in one hand and struggling to push open the door to run the food out into the dining room. Having to go to Richie and tell him that someone’s card declined so you didn’t have to be the one to tell them. Going into the walk-in and just opening your mouth in a silent scream just to go back out there and finish your shift. 

The rush of cold air on the back of your neck is familiar too. You don’t know what Carmen’s yelling about in the kitchen. You’d just stepped in there to grab food and had caught the tail end of his rant and you’d left with your tray and a million possibilities running through your head.

You’d written something down wrong and now a dish needed to be remade. 

You’d left one of the fridges open and spoiled days worth of food.

You’d given someone something they were allergic to and now you were being sued.

You move through the restaurant on autopilot, avoiding people and chairs and one of Richie’s spitballs sent from behind the counter. You’re so sure that the next time you went back in that kitchen Carmy would be pulling you aside and telling you that you’re fired. 

You deliver the food to the table with a smile and stand back upright to check in with them about that being everything. One of the women sits up a little straighter, giving you an apologetic look. “Sorry, I ordered a side of the lemon herb dressing?”

You look down at her dressing-less plate. “Oh, I’m sorry. I’ll be right back with that one, so sorry.”

She waves you off. “You take as long as you need to, honey.”

You practically speed back to the kitchen. Oh, god. You hoped you’d at least get that poor woman her dressing before Carmy fired you. You can’t believe that you managed to screw this up. You’d been lucky to get this job. Carmen had brought you on right when he’d opened up the restaurant and the rest of The Bear had all been super welcoming.

You got on best with Sydney, the two of you were similar in age and she was one of the kindest people you knew. You and Richie also had a nice relationship, you thought he hated you when you first got hired and then he walked out into the alley to have a cigarette, found you crying and punched a guy in the face for you. 

You needed this job. You’d graduated a few years ago and were still struggling to break through in your field, and this job paid the bills and didn’t make you cry every single day. Some days, sure, but not every day. 

You knew you weren’t the best waitress ever, you screwed up and made customers yell at you pretty frequently. You were lucky that Richie liked you enough to stand up for your honor even when you were probably wrong. But you tried your absolute best, you came into work every day and genuinely wanted to help. You respected all of the chefs so much, they all worked so hard, and you wanted to make their lives as easy as possible. 

You go over to Richie and murmur something to him about the dressing, and he takes it to the kitchen. First whatever you’d done to upset Carmy, now this. If he didn’t think you knew how to do your job before, he definitely will now. You glanced over your section. All your tables were eating or had ordered, you’d normally be checking with Sugar when the next reservation was due and triple-checking the table was clean and everything was prepared. 

If you were going to get a walk-in minute in, now would be the best time. Maybe you could do it before Carmy fired you. 

You brush past Tina, not even hearing her concerned call for you. The walk-in was empty and everyone in the kitchen understood. When someone goes into the walk-in with tears in their eyes you leave them alone for as long as you can. 

You can’t believe that you were stupid enough to screw this up. 

The door slams open and you wipe your eyes, expecting it to be Tina needing to actually do her job or Marcus wanting to check on you. It’s Carmen.

“What happened?” He hadn’t been expecting to see you so upset. He’d heard the door slam and wanted to leave it alone, but then Richie had raised his eyebrows, stopping mid-sentence.

“God, I can’t wait to hear about whatever asshole yelled at her this time,” he’d shaken his head, trying to go back to what he’d been talking to Carmy about before. One of the shelves had been knocked and two containers of flour had been completely emptied out onto the floor. They had lids on, lids with clamps on them that were meant to stop that from happening but lo and behold Fak was now mopping up something that was beginning to resemble bread dough with how much water he was trying to use. . 

“Who?” Carmy’s eyes had still been glued to the walk-in. Richie had said your name and Carmen had practically excused himself in the same breath. This time? Did you get yelled at by customers a lot?

You wipe your face, shaking your head. “Sorry, Carm. I guess I just needed a second, I’ll get back out there.”

You take a step forward and he, without meaning to, moves to block the door. You feel your heart rate climb. This was it, he was going to scream at you in the walk-in. “You’re crying.”

You can feel the tears welling up in your eyes. You didn’t want this to happen, you didn’t want to be crying in front of your boss. Especially not Carmen. He’s a lot, you know that. You’re not in the kitchen a whole lot, but when you are he’s usually not super happy. He’s a yeller, half of Chicago knows that. But he’s always kind to you, he gave you a job when you were fresh out of college in an unrelated field with no experience because he could tell how much you needed one. You often felt out of place slightly, through no fault of the other staff. They spent all shift in the kitchen together and you spent your entire shift out there in the dining room. You know they’re not having sleepovers and braiding each others’ hair in there, but your work mostly took place in a different room.

But Carmen always makes sure you get Family, that you get your break even if it’s scheduled while it’s busy and that Richie isn’t skimming your tips (he’d never, but Carmen’s caught him with his hands in the jar so often that he isn’t sure anymore). 

It really doesn’t help that he looks like that.

You’re shaking, and he worries for a second that it’s because you’re standing in the freezer, but there are tears welling in your eyes and he doesn’t want to drag you out to his office when you’re so visibly upset. “I’m sorry,” you’re shaking your head. “Please don’t fire me.”

Carmen frowns. “Why would I fire you?”

The words seem to tumblr from your mouth without your permission. “I know I’m not the best waitress, I’m sure you get lots of complaints about me and I forgot that woman’s dressing and I know nothing about kitchens but I’m trying, Carm. I promise, and I’ll do better.” You’re talking so fast that he can barely keep up. He’s still caught up on the first part. 

“Wait, wait,” he holds a hand up to stop you. “Who told you you’re not a good waitress?”

You sniff, tears fully rolling down your cheeks. Carmen knows he’s rough. He’s prone to explosions. Carmen is a hurricane, he wreaks havoc on whatever environment he’s in. He sucks in everyone else’s bullshit, swirls it around and then spits it back out, leaving whatever is left in worse condition than he found it. 

You were calm. You calmed everyone. If an asshole yelled at Carmen, or Sydney or Ebra, Richie wouldn’t even dream of going out there and yelling at the customer. Marcus made you a cake on your birthday and Sydney tries all of her newest recipes on you. 

The eye of the hurricane. 

You’re prattling at this point. “-And that time that I made that guy wait fifteen minutes for a straw, and-”

“Honey,” he doesn’t mean to, that slips out without him meaning. “You’re a great waitress, who gives a shit that guy had to wait for his fucking straw? Who cares, you’re…” he can’t think of a way to talk to you. Great feels too impersonal, wonderful feels too intimate. It’s what you are, though. “You have nothing to worry about. You’re… everyone loves you. We’re lucky to- I’m sure you could get a job at any other restaurant if you wanted. You’re not a bad waitress.”

That’s apparently the wrong thing for him to say. It only makes you cry harder. “Please don’t fire me,” you look pathetic. Crying to your boss while he fires you in the middle of the freezer. 

Carmen doesn’t let that slide for a second longer than he has to. “Why the fuck would I fire you?”

You don’t need to answer. Because I’m a bad waitress. It hangs in the air like the frosty vapor that flies from his mouth every time he takes a breath. 

“I swear to fuck, you’re a big part of the reason people come in here,” he’s not lying. He knows his name carries weight, he knows people hear “Carmen Berzatto’s restaurant” and that brings them in the door a lot of the time. He pulls out his phone, reception is shit but he’s able to google the name of the restaurant. 

He doesn’t have to scroll far down the Google reviews before he finds it. “Food was great, waitress was lovely, made us feel so welcome.” He finds another one. “Waitstaff was on top of it. Two people at surrounding tables smashed glasses and from what I saw one waitress cleaned them both up and still managed to get our appetizers out on time.” 

He goes to find another one but stops, looking back up at you. “You’re not firing me?” You take a step back, dropping your entire body so you’re sitting cross-legged on the floor. He watches you, gauging your reaction, before mirroring you. Your knees are almost touching his. 

“I’d have to be a fucking moron.”

The silence is deafening. 

“Hey,” Carmen can’t bite back the shocked laugh. “That’s… alright. Fine.”

Hearing you laugh makes relief bubbled up inside of him. 

“I should go back out there,” you nod towards the door.

Carmy shakes his head, knee nudging against yours. “Richie’s got it, Marcus can walk desserts, Syd’s on top of everything. No one’s gonna hold it against you if you stay here for a bit.”

He stands, hand brushing your shoulder as he moves towards the door. “Have you eaten today?”

You shake your head and he nods. “I’m gonna make you some pasta, okay? Richie can take over for a bit, you take your time in here I’ll be right outside, honey.” He shuts the door and your shoulder burns where he touched it. 

[aluciahaz]

Sub Adam smut pleasepleasepleaspelalslePLEASEPLEASE i NEED that dickhead to be put in his place I am BEGGING (fem reader<3)

my favorite genre is putting adam in his place 🤝 also how do writers make text yellow on mobile all i could find was orange 💀

know your place

— adam x f!reader

—includes : pegging, crying, begging, bondage, edging, bottom!adam, dom!fem reader

he’s pathetic.

adam, the first man, seemed more like an annoying bird than an angel as he kept boasting about his status and yapping about his dumb stories. how could someone so renowned as him be such a brat?

it was clear he needed some training.

and if no one was going to teach him on how to shut up, you’ll do it yourself.

“mfph—! mmmh!”

adam’s incomprehensible whines sounded better than any foolish joke he’d try and tell you.

his mouth was covered, his hands were bound, and his eyes were blinded with the fabric ripped off of his ostentatious clothes.

the tears stemming from his woeful desperation soaked into the makeshift blindfold, but still streamed down his face like a weak river. the way his mouth quivered around the spit-covered cloth was so pathetic that it was almost endearing.

almost.

if only he wasn’t such a dick all the time, maybe you’d have some more empathy.

his body is trembles as he arches his back again, a loud cry leaving his restrained mouth once more as you drive your strap inside of him, constantly hitting the spot that made him feel like he was in heaven. or well, another heaven.

the vibrator on his tip certainly was helping him feel like he was ascending too.

although, unfortunately for him, the cock ring stopped him from truly meeting god. or maybe lucifer, considering how sinful this all was.

his wings would flail beneath him like a caught dove, flapping and batting against the soft bedsheets every time he got close.

which of course, you’d follow it up by slowing down both the vibrator and your hips.

it made him wail every time, slamming the back of his head down onto the pillow as he begged for you to let him come.

but how would you know? you couldn’t hear any words coming from his mouth.

“i didn’t quite catch that, what did you say?”

“mphf—mm!! mh—hm—hmm!”

he couldn’t speak even if he didn’t have the fabric between his lips. his mind was thoroughly melted, swirling with only thoughts of you and the pleasure he was experiencing. there was no way he could possibly be coherent.

the night keeps going like this. adam, the self-proclaimed best playboy around heaven, getting absolutely ruined by a woman. his weary moans and frail keens fell onto deaf ears. his begging, simply incomprehensible as you show him how weak he was under your touch. he doesn’t know how long it’s been, but surely too long!

too bad you don’t think so.

later, you finally pull off the makeshift gag after what you deem is enough time for him to remember that he’s just a feeble man when it comes to you. that you were the one who truly had the power around here.

“PLEASE! please—please please oh, fuck please—!” his voice would fray as it got higher, drool slipping down his bottom lip as he pleaded.

“please what?”

“plea—please…ha, lemme cum—ngh!” he grits his teeth as you thrust particularly roughly, raising the speed of the vibrator as you do so. it drives him insane, your cruelty.

“no.”

you could only describe his sound as a guttural scream, crying for you, his true goddess, to let him cum. it reeks of desperation, his writhing, his now jumbled mess of begging, his now breaking spirit.

he’s yours, yours, yours.

he doesn’t even realize he’s saying it out loud.

“i’m sorry—i’m sorryi’msorryi’msorry—PLEASE!” he whines, hoping that you’d take mercy on someone like him.

and finally, you do.

you were a kind angel after all, unlike him.

you rip the blindfold off of him, welcomed with his perfectly debauched face before lifting his legs over your shoulders—he really was flexible!—and taking the cock ring off, reveling in his beautifully demolished state.

“what do you say?”

“THANK YOU! thankyouthankyooou—fuckfuck FUCK!” he sucked in a breath before a long drawn out cry tumbles past his cracking lips, and for once, you like what’s coming out of his mouth.

with your word, adam finds his release, falling from his already corrupted grace. his eyes roll back like he’s died once more, his body, once so animated and jumpy, now stiff for a brief second as he rides his high.

you grab his chin, forcing him to look at you with that glazed over look in his eyes. you don’t even know if he can see you, but the action alone made him groan weakly in response.

“know your place.” you say, releasing his chin.

adam, once so full of himself, nods in agreement, sniffling as he tries to stop his crying.

a lesson well done, you think.

sorry if the words get repetitive ive been having headaches the past few days 😭 ill pull out my thinking cap soon

tags— @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx

[signedkoko]

Hi hi! I want to request a gn reader who is the closest thing Alastor has to a best friend, right hand man type feel. Like Reader is a sinner and had to make a deal with Al for their soul, but Reader is so honest when they talk and act that Al is all "they aren't so bad." Alastor calls on the Reader first almost everytime and Reader is like, "This is the least worst situation. Let's not screw it up" as they throw their all into whatever Al needed them to do. So when Alastor tells them to get a job with Vox to spy on him, there's a groan, then a fine.

Sorry if it's a bit jumbled, I had a thought and ran with it. Also, could I be 🗑anon

Alastor X Reader [Platonic]

In which you are the only person Alastor might consider a best friend. Reader is genderneutral.

While you'd sold your soul to the demon a long time ago, you certainly had perks that most others under his control did not

In fact, you didn't even act as if Alastor 'owned' you; you did your own thing and respected his wishes as best you could, and Alastor just never seemed to mind

Perhaps that was a front; no one was certain; all they could tell was that Alastor certainly favoured you

Anytime an issue arose and he was busy, he would leave you in his place, and by god, you never did disappoint

Actually, most people prefer it when it's you; you are far less worrisome to be around and a lot less mysterious about things

The only thing you didn't talk about was yours and Alastors history

Whether that was part of some binding agreement or you were just scary good at diverting the topic whenever it came to what you did in the past

Typically, Alastor's duties for you include watching over his other souls, going to the tailors, or doing 'whatever Charlie asks of you!'

Otherwise, you'd be at his side, usually the two of you watching the rest and making bantering commentary about the hopelessness of the people in the hotel

Unfortunately, being so close meant that Alastor really trusted you with difficult tasks

Were you capable? Absolutely!

But did you want to? No.

Because he tells you so much, he probably goes to great lengths to make sure you aren't accidentally 'letting things out'

Which means no technology when working with him

You found that out the hard way

" Oh yes! Do you have a phone I could borrow? "

" Uhh - yeah, sure. Here. "

He crushes the device instantly

" What the fuck. "

The one thing about you is that you prefer the easy way out, and as Alastor puts it, you have hidden talent that you are 'too lazy to use', but you couldn't care less

You'd do anything he asks, both because he is your friend and because you technically have to, according to your soul binding

But you will be grumpy about it the entire time

Being so close with Alastor means you also hate Vox by proxy, so any mission involving him is just miserable

Fortunately, Vox doesn't know you, though, so you really were Alastor's best bet when he wants a spy on the inside

" Do I have to? "

" Of course you do, deary! Now pick up that smile and get marching! "

Author's Note - He is such a menace to his friends, I love writing for platonic Alastor. Thank you so much for requesting, and welcome to the blog, bin anon!

[ghostofwriting]

Kildare Split Part Four: in another life

Rafe Cameron x reader

Chapter 4: in another life

Note: Here's part four!! I'm still crying over TTPD. Down bad is so incredibly Rafeit's insane. Anyway!! I love you all so much, thank you for reading and being absolutely wonderful. This part covers the smau up until part 26. Good luck soldiers!!

Warnings: none, not edited, angst, swearing, sadness, julio, mentions of drugs, mentions of suicidal ideation.

Word Count:  6,722

Synopsis: Everyone has noticed that there's been a shift in how Kildare Split acts around each other. Rafe and Y/N used to be so close, they were always pictured together, and always shared stories of each other and for the last few years, there has been nothing from them. A behind-the-scenes look at what went down between everyone's favourite band.

Chapter 4: in another life 

It’s a nightmare. Everything feels off. The walls are caving in. His mouth feels as if he had chewed on cotton balls for the past hour. It’s spinning. He’s lost control of himself and he doesn’t know how he’ll get it back. 

It started because of the thought of them together. Forever. Married. Having kids and living happily ever after clawed and his chest and ate him from the inside out. It was an ugly feeling. He wanted to be happy for her. There was no way he could be. Not when he was so deeply in love with her. Not that he ever stopped. 

It was just one blunt. He stole it from Barry. He was careful not to disturb any of the other drugs he had in there. Careful not to look at them too long. He’s been good. Has been clean for more than two years without any missteps. And here he is high once again. It’s just weed he tells himself. It’s fine. He’s fine. 

They’re about to go onstage when Sofia loses her mind. She goes absolutely ballistic. He’s pulling her off to the side away from prying eyes.

“Stop. Relax. Let me explain.” Everything comes out in a jumble as he’s trying to balance his damn guitar and get her to stop flailing her arms everywhere. 

“There’s no explaining anything. We are over. We are so done, Rafe. Holy shit I cannot believe I put up with your crazy obsession with your friend who by the way you didn’t even date. You’re insane.” 

“Can you calm down for a second?”

“No! For your information Rafe. She doesn’t want you! She’s moved on! And we could have too but no. You’re here still pining over something that doesn’t exist. You are so incredibly disrespectful to me. I have been nothing but supportive of you. And I have put up with so much shit from you so much hatred because what? Did I take you away from her? You chose me! You left her. And now I’m leaving you.” 

“Sofia-“

“The way you have treated me the last couple of months with your album release and hinting that it’s about her? Do you have any idea how that makes me look? How it makes me feel? You don’t care about anyone but yourself.”

“That’s not true.”

“Oh! Sorry! You and her! And barely even yourself, you know how I know?” She looks at him, volcanic ash in her eyes. “Because you’re fucking high right now!”

“Keep your voice down.” He pulls her deeper into the corner they’re standing in.

“Fuck you, Rafe. I loved you. I did. I thought that once she moved on, we would be okay. I was wrong. Do not sabotage this for her. She’s happy. You’re not good enough for her. And not for me.”

She does a 180 and storms off away from backstage and away from him. He looks up and Topper is staring at him from where he stands beside Sarah, her hand is on his arm, a look of concern on her face. He shakes his head at them and turns to the stairs that lead to the stage. He spots Y/N and Julio, they’re talking quietly to each other, he sees her laugh and touch Julio’s face, and he kisses the palm of her hand.

Fuck this. He runs back to the green room. He knows he left it around here somewhere and he knows where the lighters are. He digs through three of Barry’s jackets before he finds the blunt. Barry must have moved it. When he pulls it out, a plastic baggie with four white pills comes up with it. He thinks about putting them back. He wants to put them back. He hears the 5-minute warning, stuffs the baggie in his jeans and runs to find a lighter. 

+++

There’s something off about Rafe. She notices when they begin their second song. He’s swaying more than usual, coming up and singing to her face a little too closely. 

It must be because they’re trying to be friends. And maybe the fight with Sofia. It was pretty nasty the way she went at him. She couldn’t make out what they were saying, the crowd and music drowning them out. Sofia looked upset. She must have cooled off because she’s in the audience standing next to Sarah. Not that their manager would allow her to leave even if she wanted to. It would cause too much speculation online and that’s something they don’t need more of. 

She hasn’t had to protect Julio from how Rafe and her used to act on stage, during their no-talking years, they still put on an act but it was nowhere near the level of how they acted pre-everything. They were pretty heavy on the PDA, without confirming anything of course. It was more like singing into each other's mics while staring longingly into each other’s eyes. A lot of heavy petting, she would drape herself around Rafe, Rafe would swing her around and carry her. They would practically make out on stage every show. They did everything but have sex. It’s no wonder the theories and rumours started. 

Post everything that went down, they tamed it and kept it to their side of the stage unless they were switching over. They didn’t share a mic and looking at each other too long was off-limits. And now, well now, it looks like Rafe wants to sing into her mouth with the way he gets closer and closer. Julio knows about their past and he knows that she would never do anything to hurt him but this is a little much. She doesn’t want to rub anything in his face or make him feel disrespected. She also can’t diss Rafe on stage. They have an act. They’re all best friends and nothing bad has ever happened between them. 

So she plays along. And she sings into his mic, she whips her hair in his face and he sings over her shoulder. They’re closer than they’ve ever been. This should be a fun one to look at online. At some point, her shirt comes off. She’s a little angry at Rafe’s immediate switch-up. She feels that since they’re just figuring out how to be friends, he could give it a rest and not go all out. So her shirt comes off. It got stuck on the mic stand, she got pissed off that it ripped a little and she took it off, throwing it into the crowd. At some point Rafe is not even fully on the stage anymore, he’s lying down looking up at her as he plays his guitar. She’s standing over him, singing into the mic and playing the bass all while wondering what the hell has gotten into him. 

Security is going insane over Rafe hanging off the stage and people are trying to grab his legs. Sarah is diving into the crowd trying to get a shot of what’s happening on stage. She kind of wants the show to be over but at the same time, it’s the most fun she’s had on stage in a while. 

+++

Trying to find their footing after not being friends for three years, that much is clear. One moment he’s trying to make out with her onstage and the next he can barely look at her. It has been a little bit harder than she thought it would be. 

It’s strangely painful. The realization that they can’t go back to how they were before anything happened. She knew it wouldn’t be easy but these awkward silences might kill her. 

She’s sitting between Topper and Rafe, staring directly at Barry’s bored face as Ash explains who kows what. Something about which celebrities and important label heads are coming to tonight’s show. 

She didn’t care about the label heads. One of their most important shows had been the one two days ago. Their friends had all flown in from different places to see them. Now back in the city she calls home, that’s still all that matters. 

Cleo and Pope flew in from New York, John B and JJ had flown in from Hawaii. JJ would be leaving almost immediately after to continue training for the next big surf competition and John B would be staying at Sarah’s. Julio was at her house, she didn’t want him to have to spend the entire day at rehearsals so she told him to come by when he was ready. Ward was around somewhere too, probably with Sarah and John B. Kelce was at his hotel and would be arriving later with Kie after he got her from the airport, the only one that had missed the last show. It was an important show for them because of their people not because of some random celebrity they didn’t know. 

After the show, they would go to one of their favourite bars to celebrate and then she would be off to North Carolina for a week before moving to Madrid for the foreseeable future.

She was so excited to be there a bit before Julio started filming so they could visit his friends and family. 

After Ash is done running them through the guest list, they have some downtime before their private soundcheck and the fan soundcheck. Fan Soundcheck is her favourite because they get to play some deep cuts and answer some fun questions.

They’re standing backstage as one of their stagehands announces they’ll be out in three minutes. They’re standing in a circle making sure that their in-ears are on. Barry and Topper bickering about some random thing.

“Ready, buddy?” She looks at Rafe, her eyebrow raised as Barry laughs. 

“Buddy? Good one.” Topper laughs as Rafe’s face turns red. 

“Okay yeah, I’ll never say that again.”

“Please,” she laughs, “let’s go.” She leads the guys onto the stage as their fans start screaming. 

They play a song right off the bat and then sit down for a few questions. 

Everything is going fine, the mood is great, they’re all vibing with each other on stage, it’s great. Right up until it’s not. 

“Hi, my name is Sammy, my question is for Y/N.” She smiles at the girl and waves. 

“Hi Sammy, I remember you! You saw our last show too,” she speaks into the microphone. 

“Hi! Oh my goodness yes. I drove here from San Francisco after getting tickets last minute.” The girl rambles. “Okay, so I was wondering, what are you most looking forward to doing on your break?” She mulls over the question before answering. 

“I’m going to be semi-moving to Spain for a while so probably just exploring the city.” Sammy nods and thanks her as the mic is passed to the next person.  

Something shifts on stage after that question. She doesn’t know if she missed something or what, but suddenly the mood is tense. Barry’s in between her and Rafe and she can still feel the tension coming off him in waves. 

After the last question, they played one more song and bid the fans goodbye, telling them they would see them in a few hours for the show. 

Barry goes and does whatever Barry does before a show, Rafe storms off and Topper follows him. She looks over at her guitar tech who just shrugs his shoulders and takes her guitar from her. 

She texts Julio asking when he will be getting to the arena. When she doesn’t receive an answer, she sits in the green room, with no idea where the boys are. 

She dozes off for an hour before her phone blows up with texts from Rafe. She opens Julio’s message first, telling her that he would leave her house in an hour. Then she goes to Rafe’s texts, saying something along the lines of needing to talk to her. She sees that she has notifications from Twitter as well and opens those. From Rafe too. 

“I need you”

“Please don’t go”

“Y/N”

What is he doing? They just talked about trying to be friends, she knows about his feelings but he can’t go around blowing up her phone. He’s just sad about Sofia, how could he expect her to stay after he confessed to her that he still had feelings for his ex who wasn’t really his ex? 

She asks him what he’s doing and he asks to meet her. She tells him no, and that it’s too late to d this. Too late in the day, too late because the show is about to start, and too late because she’s going and she doesn’t want him. 

After telling Cleo to haul ass to the arena. Needing to speak to her about the Rafe of it all. She runs to the bus to hide. She doesn’t want to see him so she’ll avoid the arena. 

She doesn’t think about how if he doesn’t find her inside, he’ll look for her on the bus. 

“Y/N?” She hears him call. She’s in her bunk, curtain drawn and holding her breath. He walks closer and stands in front of her bunk. She can see his shadow. 

“I know you’re in there.” She stays quiet still. “Please talk to me.” She sighs, not able to deny him when he sounds so sad. 

She draws the curtain open and meets his eyes. 

“We talked about this.”

“No, we talked about how I would try to be your friend. Not how you’re going to move away with your boyfriend.”

“What did you expect me to do? Sit at home alone for however long the break ends up being?”

“No, I thought we could hang out when we were both home and repair our friendship or whatever.”

“Rafe, I can’t do that. I won’t put my life on hold for you anymore.”

“Why are you doing this? Why can’t you just feel the same way? Why won’t you love me?” 

She’s surprised by his words. For the first time, she looks at him. Takes in his dishevelled appearance, his jittering hands, and the dilation of his pupils. 

“Are you high?” she swings herself off her bed to get as much distance between them as possible. 

“No.” He’s lying. 

“What the fuck Rafe? Why would you do this to yourself?”

“Because I’m fucking sad okay? And I don’t want to feel anything.” She can’t believe he would go down this road again,  after being clean for so long. She can’t believe he would be around her like this. Not when he knows how many bad memories it brings.

“You have to leave. You have to get away from me.”

“Y/N.” His voice cracks.

“No. You know my history, the shit I have been through because of drugs. You know it very well actually. I don’t need to be around your erratic behaviour. It’s triggering, it hurts me.” Her voice is firm. 

“Okay. I’m sorry.” he backs up turning around quickly and storming off the bus. 

She sits back down, her hands slightly shaking. If he’s using again, she doesn't know if she can have him in her life. 

+++

He’s happy Sarah’s the one that finds him. He’s spread out on the floor. The curtain covers him from the fans' curious eyes. The stage is quiet, with only a few people coming and going. The rest of the crew’s at dinner. 

“What are you doing?” She stares from above him.

“Laying.” He mumbles

“Are you not going to come eat dinner?” She points behind her in the direction of the lunch room.

“Not hungry.”

“What’s wrong?

“Sad.” He sees the annoyance at his one-word answers cross her face. 

“Rafe, full sentences please.”

“Y/N told me to go away. That she couldn’t be around me.” She crouches down next to him. 

“I thought you two were trying to be friends?” she questions. 

“I ruined it.” He can feel himself well up. 

“How?”

“By being high.”

“You are not.” she kneels left to him now, grabbing his face roughly and bringing it so his eyes are aligned with hers. 

“I am.” She looks angry at him. He feels tears start to gather. God, why does he make the women he cares most about in his life so upset?

“You can’t be high. You’re an addict.”

“Just weed. Nothing more.”

“I don’t care if it’s just weed. It’s not just weed for you. It’s a slippery slope. You go from weed to forgetting you’re sober, to cocaine.”

“I’m sorry.” The pity in her look makes his stomach twist.

“Let’s go get you cleaned up before the show. You need food and to sober up.”

“I’ll be sad though.” She stands up, extending her hand out for him to take. 

“You’re high and sad, I don’t think it helped.”

“That’s what the cocaine is for.” He jokes, it doesn’t earn him a laugh, just a scowl.

“Don’t even joke about that.”

Maybe he can get drunk after the show, then he’ll forget how sad he is. 

+++

The show goes off without a hitch. They are all smiles, dripping with sweat as they take the final bow of the tour. Tears are prickling her eyes as she looks over at Topper. His smile was big and shining. She looks at Rafe and he’s messing with Barry’s hair, a burst of laughter leaving him as Barry jumps on his back. Barry waves to the crowd as Rafe piggybacks him off. Topper grabs her hand and pulls her off the stage, waving one last time before they can’t be seen anymore. 

Julio waits for her, a huge grin on his face and his arms wide open for her to run into. Once she lets go of him, she hugs Cleo and then Pope, and then she’s tackled by JJ, Kie, and John B. 

“You all killed it!” JJ yells in her ear, making her jolt back. 

“Fucking best show we’ve ever played!” Topper screams, coming up to her and hugging her. Barry joins the hug putting his sweaty arms around them both. Rafe hesitantly joins the group hug. 

“Another successful tour,” he says, his eyes catching hers in the huddle. She smiles softly. 

“Let’s go party!” Kie screams from down the hallway where she’s started to walk away. 

Everyone starts cheering and following her lead. She finds Julio’s hand as they make their way to gather their stuff and leave the arena. 

+++

He spots Julio come in through the back doors of the club, Y/N hanging off his arm, her lips swollen. His eyes soften when he looks at her. He sees how much he loves her, and how he would never hurt her. He would go to the ends of the world for her. And he hates him. He can’t stand that she’s not hanging off his arm. That he’s not the one kissing her against a brick wall outside a sleazy bar. 

Sofia’s gone. They’re done. And he’s hurting for the relationship that he could have had if he had let go of Y/N. Not that he ever could have. It wasn’t in the cards for him. A world where he wasn’t irrevocably in love with her didn’t exist. 

“You okay?” Sarah comes up next to him, planting her hands on the table to steady herself. 

“I’m high again.” He confesses. 

“Rafe, we talked about this.”

“I get that I just can’t stop. Everything hurts.” They look of pity from earlier returns.

“You need to stop.” He looks past her to where Y/N is.

“It’s just weed.”

“You don’t get to do weed. It’s not just weed to you. Slippery slope remember?

“I know.” 

“I’m here for you. I think you need to go back to rehab. Either before you tour or after. It needs to be sooner rather than later.  I’ll drive you there myself.” She offers. 

The idea of going back to rehab irks him. He’s not as bad as he was last time. He has control over it. At least that’s what he tells himself. 

“I don’t know how to be okay watching her be with someone else.” Sarah looks behind her at Y/N with Julio. Her smile lit up the room. Her laugh was music to his ears. 

“You don’t get to break down about this. You made your choice. Let her be happy. you need to focus on staying sober, you heal, and you move on.” 

“How?” He can’t rip his eyes away from the couple. Wishing with everything in him that it was him with her.

“By being her friend, Rafe.” She pats him on the back. He watches as she follows Topper out the back door where Y/N and Julio had come through earlier. 

Everything he and Sarah talked about flies out the window when Julio of all people see him standing there with a little bag full of who knows what that Barry gave him. Barry’s drunk and high, that’s one of the only reasons he gave it to him. Barry would kill him any other time. 

He’s been toying around with the idea of just doing it. Taking all these pills and getting it over with. 

“You probably shouldn’t take those.” Rafe side glances at him but doesn’t speak.”

“If you’re doing that shit you shouldn’t be around her.” Rafe doesn’t like him and he likes him even less when he tells him if he can or can’t be around Y/N.

“Mind your business.” He barks out.

“This is my business, you know why? Because she’s my business. And she’s a recovering addict too, Rafe. Or did you forget?” He shrugs. 

“Look, I don’t care if you care about your sobriety. But we both know you care about her enough not to risk hers. So if you’re going to do that shit, don’t bring it around her. And stay away from her.” This is the angriest he has ever heard the dark-haired man. 

“Don’t fucking tell me what to do on my tour with my friends.”  Deep down he knows Julio’s right. Right now he doesn’t care what the man says. He wants to fight him. 

“Do whatever the hell you want with yourself, I’m asking you to please, stay away from Y/N if you’re going to do drugs.”

“So you’re isolating her now too.”

“What does that mean?” Julio looks at him, one eyebrow raised, lips tight.

“You’re going to take her away. You’re taking her away from her family and her friends, to live in a country where she knows nobody. What kind of boyfriend does that?” 

“I’m taking her away from you, right?” 

“Yeah, you are.” The words spill from him before he can even think of denying them. 

“She isn’t anyone’s to take away. She makes her own decisions and she chose to be with me.” Julio saying shit like that makes him feel like he thinks he’s the best option. The best man out there.

“Shut up. You’re not better than me just because you say that stuff.”

“I’m not better than anyone, just let her be.” He doesn’t say anything. Julio stands up.

“You had your chance. Let her go.” He stays quiet. Julio starts to walk away. 

“I can’t.” He sees as Julio’s steps stutter.

“I’m going to fight for her.” 

“There’s nothing left to fight for.” He walks away. Back into her arms. Where he wishes he could be.

+++

The two weeks back home in Kildare were filled with press and interviews. Filled with people asking them when the next album was and when they would be back. He was scheduled to go to rehab after two weeks back home but due to scheduling, they had to move his tour up. Y/N was already in Spain. She spent a bit of time with her family, made sure everything was good and then flew off to Europe, taking his heart with her.

They were okay again, he had explained that he would go to rehab and try to get himself under control again. She told him that she was proud of him and that she wished him all the best. She told him that she wouldn’t be able to make it to his first show but that she would be there for his last. She hugged him goodbye on her last day on the island and told him that he would see her soon. 

The engagement scare still circulated in his brain. He’s so afraid that she would get engaged while she was away and he would truly lose her forever. Whenever he thought about it he felt like throwing up. 

One month. One month and he would see her again. 

+++

She stayed with Julio’s family for three weeks in Madrid before they had to go to Valencia where he had to film. She liked being in Madrid the most because she knew how to get around and she could stay at Julio’s house. In Valencia, they’re staying in a hotel so she doesn’t have the comfort of her things. She’ll go to the set with him most of the time but other times they are such long shoots she’d rather do anything else. She wants to explore but she’s so directionally challenged she’s scared to get lost and never return, her map couldn’t even save her sometimes. 

Julio cooks for her every day, he teaches her how to cook some dishes he learned in his classes, they write songs together, and she runs songs by him which turns into them taking turns serenading each other. They drunkenly kiss under street lights and dance in the rain. She’s never felt happier, ever been so in love. 

A month in and she’s back in Los Angeles where Rafe’s playing his last show. She’s excited to be here for him but she’s counting down the hours until she can go back to Spain. 

When she gets home she checks to see that her house hasn’t been broken into and that all pipes are still in place. Her worst nightmare is returning to a flooded house. It all seems normal, she opens a few windows to air it out. Penny’s back in Spain with Julio so she feels extra alone. 

She texts Rafe that she’s back in town and he texts her back within a minute. 

“Thank you for coming, angel.” She smiles at the nickname and responds,

“Wouldn’t miss it.”

He sees her and his world stops. Her hair is in loose waves and it looks a little longer than when he had last seen her. His heart reaches out to her, begging to be in her presence. Sarah notices him there standing like an idiot and waves him over, the motion grabbing Y/N’s attention. 

“Hey,” he says walking over.

“Hi!” She says putting her arms out to him, she goes on her tippy toes to reach him. 

“How are you?” He asks her, slowly letting go. 

“I’m good! Jetlagg is kicking my ass, but happy to be here! Look at you, rockstar.” She has a wide smile on her face that makes him feel like he’s seeing the sun for the first time.

“Yeah,” he laughs a little, scratching the back of his neck, shy all of a sudden.

“I heard a little rumour that Sofia was around?”

“I invited her to a show, extending a branch and all and we talked but that ship has sailed.”

“Are you on good terms?”

“I think we could be better, but it’s okay, I’m not holding my breath.” She links her arm with his, he looks at where their arms connect and feels like he’s on fire. How is he ever going to get over her?

+++

Rafe is amazing. He’s in a class of his own when he’s up on stage giving the show of a lifetime. It makes her tear up. She can’t help but think how he almost gave this all up when they were younger. She can’t imagine him anywhere but the stage. If he were working for his dad, his star would be caged. She’s so happy she could be a small part of his journey. He deserves the world. 

For the first time since they started talking again, she feels like they can go back to normal. She loves him. She can have her best friend back. 

+++

She doesn’t know how fast everything can fall apart. It’s perfect. Too perfect. She should have known that the other shoe would drop sooner or later. That’s how her life goes. She should have known she couldn’t have everything she wants. Things get ripped away eventually.

Rafe and Topper had mentioned that there were rumours they might have to go on a festival run. She hasn’t heard anything from their manager or their label. She likes the idea of a festival run, it could get them playing in front of people who don’t know who they are and expose them to new crowds.

She misses performing, she knows this would cut her time in Spain short. Much shorter than anticipated. She’s supposed to be there for almost seven months, with a bit of travelling back and forth until Julio finishes filming and they can stay in New York for a while. 

She’s only been here for three months. It’s been so nice to be back with Julio full time, and get to do normal couple things after work. She doesn’t know how she’ll break the news to him. She chooses not to until she knows for sure. 

The peace is short-lived. 

“What is this?” Julio holds up the phone for her to take. She grabs his phone and looks at Boston Calling’s festival lineup. She reads trying to see what he’s talking about and finally finds what he’s asking about. Saturday, May 8th: Kildare Split B stage. 

“I promise I didn’t know anything about this.” She tries to reassure him.

“That’s in two weeks.” He says to her, she feels the emotion in his voice.

“I know. I’ll talk to them.” She gives him his phone back and wraps her arms around him. 

“I’m sorry.” They stay wrapped up in each other, silence overtaking them.

+++

“Ash, no one told me. I just thought I had more time.”

“There’s nothing we can do, we have the contract, you’re expected here.” She slides her hand over her face and sighs. 

“Okay. That’s fine, but I’m leaving right after, no press.”

“Y/N, that’s not the only festival. You’ll be doing stops all spring and summer.” Her stomach drops. 

“Why didn’t anyone tell me?” 

“I’m sorry. The label will make no exceptions. You have to be here for every show.”

+++

She cries in Julio’s arms about having to leave so soon. He tells her it’s okay and that it’s nothing that they aren’t used to. She hates being used to being so far from him. She already misses him. 

They try to get back to normal for the remainder of the time but something shifts. She can’t quite place it. She doesn’t know if it’s her or if it’s him. It feels off. For the first time since they met, it feels like they’re orbiting around different stars. 

They’re returning to their apartment from lunch with one of his co-stars when her world starts to crack. She knows what he’s thinking before he even says it out loud. His eyes are sad and she can read him. She’s never hated him a day since they met. Not until now. She tries to distract herself, tries changing the subject, she tells him she’s going to shower and get ready for bed. 

In the shower, she tries to scrub away the doubt and rubs at her skin to try and rid herself of the feeling. Impending doom. The world ending. A black hole fiding her universe and destroying it before she can do anything to stop it. 

When she gets out of the shower he’s sitting on the edge of their bed facing her, she’s still trying to avoid it, she kisses his cheek and turns away. He stops her from walking away by grabbing her hand and pulling her towards him. She doesn’t face him. She can’t.

“This is so hard.” His voice comes out hoarse.

“Then don’t do it.” 

“I love you so much it hurts.” It’s not supposed to hurt. He taught her that. 

“I don’t know how much longer I can do this.”

“You said we could get through it. You said that it was nothing we hadn’t done.”

“I know what I said. I thought I could.”

“And now you can’t.” He looks at her, shaking his head.

“I’m sorry. I’m so so sorry. I wish things could be different.”

“No. No. No. Stop, no, you don’t get to break up with me.” She’s screaming, the tears already spilling from her eyes. She’s never felt so crazy. And her world falls apart. She doesn’t remember a time before her life was him and her.

“Y/N. You know I love you, I would do anything for you, and this is the right thing to do.”

“No. You don’t get to choose what is right for me. I do. And I choose you. I always choose you.”

“It’s not feasible. Being away from you. It hurts too much. It hurts you and it hurts me. I can’t do 

it. My heart breaks every time you leave.”

“I’ll do anything.” Tears fall from his eyes as he gulps.

“Moving here is not realistic for you, you were supposed to be here for way longer and look, you leave in three days. I don’t blame you. It’s everything you’ve worked for and I won’t be the person that holds you back.” She’s sobbing now, she can’t see him over her tears, she’s shaking and desperate to get him to listen. To keep him. 

“I’ll quit the band.” It comes tumbling out of her mouth before she can stop it. she grabs his face and makes him look at her. “I’ll quit.” He looks at her eyes wide. 

“No.”

“Julio, please.”

“You don’t mean that, you’ll resent me and you won’t be happy and it’ll ruin us.”

“I won’t. I promise.” She’d never heard these sounds come out of her body before, so guttural and painful from somewhere deep inside her. 

“You will. You would never ask me to quit acting, would you?”

“No,” she whines, the tears flowing.

“Then how could I ask you to quit your dreams?” He’s right. She knows he is and it fucking hurts. She wants to rip her heart out. She’s never felt pain like this and she wishes she could have never met him. 

That’s not true, the thought of never having him in her life hurts. No matter how painful this moment is, the realization that their relationship is over is, she would never take back the years she spent with him. He showed her what it meant to be loved. How it felt to be seen and wanted. He taught her selflessness in love. She would never take it back. She needs to numb the pain. 

She falls into his arms, her face on his chest as she cries and cries. He holds her like he never wants to let go and cries with her. God how she wishes she could live another life. How she wishes they could be other people. In another life, she thinks. In another life. 

He’s what she wants, but she’s not what he needs. Because she’s hurting him. She’s been hurting him and he can’t put up with it anymore. She’s not worth it.

She books her flight for that night. Not wanting to prolong their inevitable goodbye. She watches as he closes the door to his apartment. The last time she’ll be here. They hold hands on the way down to his car and then as he drives her to the airport where he kisses her for the last time. Kisses her goodbye. And she gets on the plane and cries all the way home. The flight attendant keeps bringing her water and the people around her are whispering. She closes the curtains around her pod. Her eyes focus on the sides of the window as the frost builds like little spider webs reaching out to her.

She loves him. She loves him. She can’t believe this.

+++

She gets to her house. Penny next to her. She sets her stuff down next to the door and collapses into a pile of skin, bone, and numbness. Her heart missing. Her heart was somewhere back in Spain with the boy he dragged her out of her isolation and brought her back to life. How could she ever be okay again?

She doesn’t leave her house or her bed until the day she has to be on a flight to Boston. She has about 100 missed calls and a billion unopened text messages. She doesn’t care to talk to anyone. Doesn’t want to explain the breakup. 

+++

She can feel herself isolating. To the way, things were before him. She’s in a room full of people and she feels the most alone she’s ever been. She waves everyone off, not giving them a second glance. She marches on stage, she plays the show with a missing heart. Pretending she’s okay. The band sees right through her, the fans don’t know better. 

Everyone is worried about her. Ash forces her to come out with the band and crew. She’s probably scared she’ll overdose if she’s on her own. All the telltale signs of how she used to be. They’re keeping an eye on her. 

She doesn’t feel like she’s in her body, she’s floating through life right now. She walks out onto the balcony, needing fresh air. 

Everyone’s dancing as she sits on the balcony and stares at the night sky. The wind makes goose bumps rise on her skin. She feels another tear try and escape her eye. She blinks it away before it can. She’s so tired of crying all the time. 

“Hey, you.” Topper steps out into the crisp air. 

“Hey,” she whispers, trying to cover that she’s been crying. 

“You okay?”

“No.”

“It’ll be okay. Sometimes love just doesn’t last. It happens and it’ll pass.”

“We didn’t break up because we didn’t love each other. If the distance didn’t exist I would still be with him. I would choose him over and over again but I was hurting him and in turn, I was hurting myself and neither of us expected or would accept the other quitting their dream jobs to move. So we’re done and it fucking hurts, Top. I saw forever with him. I haven’t felt that way about anyone ever. Part of me thinks that one day, when we’re both settled and not chasing the next best thing, we’ll be together.” She’s choking up, tears spilling over.

“Come here,” he opens his arms to her and she falls into them, “I’m here for you.” she looks over his shoulder to where Rafe is with their friends. 

“For now I just want to drink and cry and sleep for three weeks. I want the pain to stop. I don’t want to feel.” She pulls back from Topper, grabbing his arm and dragging him back inside. 

She would forget. At least for tonight.

+++

Her head pounds in the morning. She would blame all the crying she’s been doing but it’s mostly the alcohol. Cleo would kill her if she knew how much she was drinking again. She opens her eyes and looks around the half-lit room, the morning sun peeking through the curtains. The curtains are on the wrong side of the room. She looks around some more and notices clothes thrown on the floor. Men’s clothes. This isn’t her room. 

She remembers bits of the night before, kissing and touching in the elevator ride, the fight to find his room key, looking into his blue eyes and forgetting the name of the man with the brown eyes. At least for a moment. She blinks as if that would stop the headache.  

“Shit.” She hears from beside her. She slowly turns her head until her eyes meet the blue eyes staring back at her. 

“Top.”

“Fuck.”

[aerynwrites]

Make is Right

Gale x Dark Urge!Reader

A/N: Had this idea come to me when @thedreamlessnights told me that Gale yelled at their dark urge after talking to Gortash in Baldur’s Gate. Hope y’all enjoy the angst and fluff that follows.

Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings: MAJOR SPOILERS FOR BG3. Spoilers for dark urge plot specifically. Angst, emotional Hurt/Comfort, major character death, resurrection, fluff, happy ending.

You’ve been in a spiral ever since the Nautiloid crashed, your mind a jumble of blankness and confusing violent urges you can’t hope to control. Your sleep plagued with terrible dreams and that infuriating butler. Urges that have made you do terrible things and almost make you do worse. 

But now…now it feels as if everything has come crashing down around you. You’d hoped coming to Baldur’s Gate would give you answers to your past, hopefully bring to light memories that are still lost to you. 

You never expected it to be worse than you thought. 

You never expected to be on the receiving end of Lord Gortash’s cunning smile as he greets his favorite assassin. You didn’t think learning of your past would make your heart drop to your stomach. 

But as you stand here, in this grand throne room and listen as Gortash tells you of your bloody past…you feel bile rise in your throat. 

You watch numbly as Duke Ravengard crowns Gortash as the archduke of Baldur’s Gate, acutely aware of how your companions shift uneasily behind you. You accept begrudgingly when Gortash offers you an alliance, that sickening smile tugging at his lips as he steps closer to you. 

“I tolerate Orin,” he tells you, a strange fondness in his eyes that makes your stomach roll. “But I liked you.” 

He waves his hand dismissively. “Go get the stone. And don’t come back until you have it in hand.”

You obey his command, not because you want to listen to him, but because you want to get as far away from here as possible. Your feet carry you faster than you expect, and soon you’re out of the oppressive building that is Wyrm’s Crossing making your way across the bridge. 

It’s only then that any feeling comes back to you at all, and you’re acutely aware of piercing gaze burning into your back. You stop in your tracks, turning to see Gale as the source. 

The look he gives you…The man who you’ve come to love and who you thought felt the same…His eyes are full of nothing but betrayal and anger. 

You reach out to him, fear gripping your heart like you’ve never felt before. “Gale, what-?” 

He recoils from you, lips turned down wards. “Don’t.” He says, the one word coming out harsher than you anticipate, making you retreat into yourself as he continues. “The absolute, the tadpoles…it was because of you?” 

That last word is said with such venom it makes your heart fracture in your chest. You’ve never been on the receiving end of such vitriol, at least not from him, and it makes tears burn at the back of your eyes. 

“Gale, please…I didn’t even know-“ 

He cuts you off with a raised hand, eyes falling shut as he turns his head away from you, as if it pains him to even hear your voice. 

“I think you’ve said and done more than enough,” he lowers his hand to a fist at his side, still not looking at you. “Leave me be.” 

He offers nothing else as he brushes past you, walking back towards camp with a rigid set to his shoulders. You feel your lower lip wobble, and out of instinct look back to your other companions for guidance, hoping for anything other than hatred. 

You at least get that much. Not even Karlach will look right at you, her hands clenching at her sides as she too walks past, uttering something about catching up with Gale. Astarion offers one of his humorous quips, but even that does nothing to help. 

Only Shadowheart seems truly sorry, her eyes meeting yours in a knowing way. You suppose she’s the only one who understands being a slave to your blank past and eventually finding out the brutal truth. 

But even her…you can see the thin set of her lips, and you know. You know on some level she blames you too. 

And as they all leave one after the other, you’re left alone on the wooden bridge, the wind whistling around you, and your mind still infuriatingly blank. 

————

No one approaches you at camp that evening, all of them being pleasant enough but losing that usual camaraderie that typically fills the air. 

It’s only after dinner has been served and eaten that you move to seek out your partner, your bowl of stew left untouched by your spot at the fire. 

Gale is in front of his tent, deep in one of his books as he usually is. Normally the sight would bring a smile to your face, but now as you approach, nothing but dread settles in your stomach. 

The man doesn’t even acknowledge you as you walk up, eyes never leaving the pages of his book as you stand in front of him, shifting nervously in your feet. 

“Can we talk?” you finally ask, voice soft in the night air. 

Not looking up from his reading, Gale turns a page as he answers, “I don’t see what there is to talk about.” 

You bite your lip, trying to keep the tears welling up at bay. 

“You know what.”

Gale scoffs, finally closing his book with a resounding snap as he finally looks at you. His eyes are ablaze with anger but deep below the surface you can sense a sadness. He feels betrayed. 

“Oh yes,” he says, “I suppose we do need to address the fact that you are the reason we are all in this bloody predicament. Where would you like to start?” He asks cruelly. “The fact that you’re actually a bloodthirsty assassin set on fulfilling your fathers diabolical wishes? Or should we discuss the tiny detail that you were seemingly cozy with none other than Enver Gortash?” 

Frustration bubbles up in you then, and finally the tears spill over - hurt and anger and utter confusion proving too much for you to handle. 

“You act like that person is me!” You cry, wavering. “Like I haven’t proven again and again since I’ve met you that I’m not…that. I don’t want to be that person anymore I don’t…I can’t be.”

Gale says nothing, so you continue. “I can’t control who I was but until today I didn’t even know that was my past but I -“ you choke on a sob, wiping furiously at the tears streaming down your cheeks. “We’ve done so much good. That has to count for something.” 

You watch as Gale softens ever so slightly, but it’s so slight that if you didn’t know him as well as you do, you would have missed it. 

He sighs, eyes clenching shut as he turns his face from you again. “Sometimes…Sometimes our past is not something we can separate ourselves from.” He says simply, hands falling limply by his side. “I…I need time to think. I think it’s best if you go.” 

His words feel like a stake to your heart, the pain radiating out to your fingertips and making your knees weak. 

You want to scream. You want to fall on your knees and beg for him to understand, for him to not push you away. But you know it would do no good. So instead, you only nod, swallowing the lump in your throat as you retreat to your bedroll by the fire. 

You avoid the sideways stares the others give you, no doubt having heard your fight with Gale. 

The bedroll is cold beneath you, even the fire doing nothing to warm the icy hurt seeping through your veins. Minutes tick by into hours and soon everyone retires to bed. 

But you remain awake. 

Astarion and Karlach lay on the other bedrolls near you - but the one across the fire is achingly empty. 

As the night draws on and the flames of the fire dwindle to nothing but smoldering embers, your mind runs endlessly. 

You try fruitlessly to counjure up memories of your past, the past Gortash laid out for you. But there’s nothing. Nothing but blankness and and cloud of black anger bubbling in your chest. 

Orin. 

She’s the only thing that keeps fighting it’s way to the forefront of your mind. Since you’ve been in the city she’s already made it clear she’s watching you, and after what was revealed to you, you know why. 

She did this to you. 

She created this vast expanse of emptiness within you. Made you forget your past and took your place as Bhaals chosen, but maybe…

It was for the better. You know this, and silently you thank her for doing it. For orchestrating your fall from grace so to speak. Because now…now you’re someone else, someone better. 

All at once an idea forms in your mind. One that would hopefully solve all your problems. 

Orin took your place when she got rid of you…what if you could do the same. But instead of taking her place when she falls…you can deny your father his chosen. 

You’ll have two of the stones, Orin out of the way and one step closer to righting the wrongs you’ve unknowingly created. 

You’re on your feet before you can overthink it. You enter your tent and don your armor and weapons in a mindless haze, only when you exit your tent do you pause, your eyes trailing over to the familiar blue tent across camp. 

You approach quietly, not wanting to wake the sleeping body inside, and you carefully peel back the tent flap. Gale rests on his side, face lax with sleep as his chest rises and falls slowly. 

For a moment you’re struck with a pang of fear. What if this venture ends in your death? What if you never see the man you love again? 

These thoughts run through your head as you gaze softly at your sleeping lover, and before you can let the fear control you, you lean in and press a featherlight kiss to his cheek. 

He barely stirs, eyes fluttering lightly before he settles once more. You smile sadly before reaching into your pocket, your fingers wrapping around the cool red stone before you pull it out. 

You place the netherstone beside his pillow where he’ll be sure to see it. If this does go sideways…they can still continue the mission. 

You stand, giving one last glance at Gale before you let the tent flap fall shut and turn to go face your past head on. 

———

Orins arrogance is her downfall, just as you hoped it would be. 

She could have easily overpowered you. Taken advantage of your worn down state from trying to find the temple. She could have used the handful of cultists around her to aid in her battle against you. 

But she was arrogant, bloodthirsty, and ready to end what she had started. 

That had been her mistake. 

The fight was not easy, there were moments where you thought you would fall, a few injuries too close to fatal for you to be too haughty in your victory. 

But as she lay, broken and bloodied at your feet, you can’t help but be acutely aware of the vast emptiness still yawing within you. 

You thought killing Orin would make you feel something. Maybe a sick sense of satisfaction, or possibly even trigger some memories of what she did to you or what you’ve done. 

But there’s…nothing. There’s nothing but the sound of your own breath as it bubbles wetly in your chest. 

Somethings wrong, you’re injured worse than you’ve ever been before but at this moment you can’t find it in you to care. 

Will this be enough? 

Will Gale forgive you for your wrongs? Or, when you return to camp with the second netherstone, will it just prove that he was right? That you can’t in fact separate yourself from your bloody past. 

That you’ll never be more than the spawn of Bhaal, created to do one thing only. 

Will you ever truly be free? 

Your answer comes in a wave of telekinetic pain, washing over your mind and nearly bringing you to your knees as a voice speaks through you. 

There’s a tinge of familiarity as it speaks, and it’s only then you realize who is speaking. 

Bhaal. 

The god of murder. Your father. The thing that made you who you were - who you are. 

You stand there, that pain slowly ebbing away as he offers you greatness. Offers you the title as his chosen once more and showers you with false praises. 

You feel that all too familiar urge tug violently at your mind, begging - screaming at you to accept your rightful place. 

You almost give in, your despair and emptiness almost winning out. But then…then you remember the way Gale looked at you, the way they all looked at you. With pain and fear and betrayal in their eyes. 

And suddenly the emptiness is gone. The vast yawning cavern of blackness in your mind no longer feels like a burden. You may not remember who you were but…You aren’t them anymore. You’re someone new. Someone kind and loving and caring. You’re someone who laughs around the campfire at Karlach’s jokes and teases Astarion about his always perfect hair. 

But more than that…You’re someone who’s known love. 

Gales face flickers before your mind then, that kind small smile when you ask him about his magic. The way his eyes crinkle when he laughs. The way his hands feel against your skin as he holds you, or the way he stayed with you as you fought your urges. 

Your mind isn’t empty. It’s so full. Just as your heart is. Full of love and hope and brightness despite the urges that tempt you everyday. 

You’re not his anymore. 

You reject his gift as powerfully as you can muster and you feel the way his power reels back in anger and hatred. 

How dare you refuse me!

His voice rages in your mind just as you feel the tendrils of pain seep into your bones. 

Your name echoes off the cavernous temple walls, and through the pain and the voice screaming in your head it takes you longer than usual to realize where it’s coming from. 

You turn to see your companions, your friends, rushing towards you from the entrance of the temple, shouts of your name and other jumbled words greet your ears. 

But then you see Gale. 

His eyes filled with worry and regret, reaching for you, fingers outstretched towards your quaking form. 

They’re closer now, each step bringing them closer and closer to your bleeding body. You reach out your own hand, limbs quaking with effort against the ever crushing weight consuming you. 

Your fingers just barley brush Gale’s, his eyes glossing with relief. 

But it’s too late. 

His hand slips into your own as Bhaal strikes you down. 

Bones cracking, sinew snapping, and blood rushing out of you as darkness swallows you whole. The last thing you remember as death surrounds you, is the pain in your throat as you cry out Gale’s name. 

————

It feels like mere moments after the pain and darkness that light erupts around you. 

Warm tendrils of light wrap around the emptiness that was your life and soul forming you once more back onto the mortal plane. It blinds you, making you unable to see what happens until you materialize and your boots hit solid ground, your knees buckling beneath you. 

But instead of meeting the cold hard floor beneath you, warm arms catch you as you fall, your body falling against a much sturdier one. 

Your mind is muddled as your sense come back to you, a multitude of faces swimming before you. You see Karlach and Halsin hovering off to the side with Shadowheart. Even Astarion’s face swims with worry. 

But what catches your attention most is the familiar face of your lover right above you, tears clinging to his lashes. 

Tears?

You’ve never seen Gale cry, never seen him so much as sniffle or whimper. But now…

Small, warm tears drip onto your cheeks as he leans down to press his forehead against your own, his arms crushing you to his chest so fiercely you nearly can’t breathe. 

“Thank the gods-“ he chokes on a sob, “you’re alive. You’re alive. I…” he pulls away from you then, reaching a hand up to wipe the moisture from your skin. “I watched you die and all I could think about was what a fool I’d been - how unfair and cruel I was to you.” 

You shake your head, bringing a hand up cradle his cheek, wiping at the tears there as you furrow your brow. 

“What happened?” 

Gale opens his mouth to speak, but another raspy echoing voice answers. You turn your head just enough to see Withers standing a few paces away. 

“Bhaal tried to extinguish thee, but his wrath is imprecise. He only succeeded in killing the part of thee he knew,” the being says plainly, voice lacking any emotion. “The Urge that drove thee to terrible acts. The spark of brutality that made thee his. But there is a new part of thee that has grown during thy travels.” You swear you see the bag of bones smile. “That part Bhaal could not extinguish. And so, instead of destroying thee, he hath made thee anew.” 

He continues. “The heart of a savior hath overshadowed the mind of a murderer” he clenches a fist triumphantly. “Thou hast vanquished thy Urge.” 

It's then, when his words truly settle in that you sense it - or, don’t sense it. 

There’s…nothing. No primal bloodlust, no violent tug at the edge of your mind. 

It’s gone. 

Hope swells in your chest as you look back to Gale, eyes swimming with tears of your own now. 

“He’s right I - I can’t feel it. The urge. I think it’s gone, for good this time.” 

Gale shakes his head, pulling you ever closer as his lips fall to your cheek. “I don’t care,” he says firmly, causing momentary panic to tug at your heart. 

But Gale is quick to sooth, pulling away to look into your eyes. “I only mean that I do not care if your urges are with you or not. I would love you all the same and I-“ he closes his eyes, shoulders tense with regret. “I was a fool for making you think I felt otherwise. You stuck by me even when I didn’t deserve it and I…I did not give you the same respect or care.” 

His voice is soft and broken as he speaks, eyes opening again. “I love you, more than than even my goddess, more than the stars that litter the night skies and I - I can only beg for your forgiveness, though I would not begrudge you for holding it from me.” 

As his words sink in, you faintly recognize that the others have retreated quietly, even Withers has taken his leave, allowing you and Gale a moment of privacy. 

Slowly you move so you are kneeling before Gale who mirrors your position, his arms still wrapped around you. You bring your hands up to cradle his cheeks, thumbs brushing back and forth slowly. 

“I love you too,” you tell him, eyes watering with tears once more. “That’s why I…I wanted to make things right - prove that I wasn’t that person anymore.” 

“But you have!” Gale says, voice striken with grief. “Time and time again you showed us who you truly are, proved that the urges you felt were against your will and yet I still-“ he laughs bitterly, “I still let the revelation of your past cloud who I know you truly are. I was cruel. And there is no excuse for the harsh words I uttered. I only hope to show you the error of my ways, no matter how long it takes.” 

You smile at him - your lover, your partner, the only person you want to spend your future with - and kiss him. 

You pour all of your love and desperate aching need for him into that one action, heart swelling with warmth as he responds in kind. 

You only part when you need air, moving to rest your head against his own, your breathes mingling together. 

“There’s nothing to forgive, my love,” you whisper. “Just stay by my side until the end as I will you.” 

Gale smiles, arms wrapping tighter around your waist.

 “I would love nothing more.” 

[heart-of-the-morningstar]

Brand New One Shot - Second Preview

I cooked a little :3c

Warning for masturbation!

You made your way up to his tower, replaying the scene in the lobby over and over in your head. Things were going well, weren’t they? He seemed so apologetic when you told him how you felt. And then he just…disappeared like he always does. You really didn’t mean to push the issue, but perhaps you came on a little strong. Plus your rescue of him was a little more than awkward. Not that you minded the closeness, even if it was fleeting. The picture of his head resting against your chest flashed in your mind repeatedly. You could feel the heat rise to your cheeks once more as you were now mere steps from Lucifer’s door.

Focus, you mentally scolded yourself, can’t think about that. It was an accident! It won’t happen again so just…focus. No wonder he ran!

You stood in front of his door now, your knees somehow weaker than they were a moment ago. Those mental images really didn’t help at all. With a deep inhale, you went to knock, but you stopped short when you heard something from beyond the door. You heard your name.

What?, you thought, How…How did he know I was here? Lucifer didn’t sound angry fortunately, but the inflection in his voice made him sound almost sad. And…breathless? You cracked open the door slowly, a little embarrassed at being caught. You went to open your mouth to apologize for the intrusion, but not even a whisper left your lips. Because what you saw in that room left you completely and utterly frozen where you stood.

Lucifer, the great ruler of Hell, was propped up against the obscene amount of pillows on his bed with his pants pooled at his ankles, his very much erect dick in his hand. His eyes were shut, he hadn’t seen you catch him in this extremely vulnerable state.

Run, run, run, RUN! your mind screamed. Everything in your brain was telling you to shut that door and get out of there as fast as you could. But your body refused to react, you remained motionless. You were completely entranced by the scene before you. You watched as Lucifer stroked his cock, mumbling a number of curse words with your name leaving his lips like a prayer.

“Hnng, G-God damn it-ffffuuuccckk….” Lucifer mumbled, his hand gradually picking up the pace as he stoked his shaft.

You tried to wrap your head around what you were seeing, but you were coming up blank. You couldn't believe this. He’s…He’s touching himself…to me?!? How is this…? Why would he…? Your brain was a jumbled mess at this point. It was really beyond your comprehension. You felt tension pool in your stomach at the sight of him becoming undone at the mere thought of you. The sinful sounds he was making went straight between your thighs, to the point where it became uncomfortable that you weren’t giving yourself any attention. The tiniest bit of you wanted to push open that door and give him what he really desired. But before you even begin to think about acting on your carnal instincts, you watched Lucifer's hips bucked up as he came all over his hand. It took every fiber of your being to hold in a whimper that threatened to escape your throat.

Lucifer’s breathing was labored, you watched him toss his arm over his eyes and throw his head back on the pillows. "What the hell is wrong with me?!" you heard him ask. "Why am I doing this?! It’s been months now and I’ve barely had a normal conversation with her! And of course the only time I’ve really talked to her was after my damn head was forced against her…her…s-shit.” He waved his hand, a tissue appearing between his fingers. You watched as he cleaned himself up, thankful that he still hadn’t looked towards his door. Lucifer kicked himself out of his pant and swung his legs over the side of the bed, his head hanging low. “And what an absolutely fantastic exit I made! “Sorry, gotta go! My dick is hard as a rock right now because of you!” Great job, Lucifer! No wonder she thinks I don’t want her here!” He sighed heavily. “I can’t do this anymore. This isn’t right. I need to stop being a coward and just tell her how she makes me feel…”

A small gasp escaped your lips. Fuck.

Lucifer's head shot up immediately, his panicked eyes fixating on the door. You didn't even close it behind you as you took off sprinting down the hall, praying to anyone who could hear you that he didn't see you. You didn’t stop running til you made it back to your room, slamming the door behind you. Your knees gave out from under you as you dropped to the floor. In that second, it all clicked for you. Why Lucifer seemed to avoid you at every turn, why he tripped over his words when he spoke to you, and why he practically begged you not to leave the hotel.

Lucifer liked you. Lucifer really liked you. That thought alone could have made you scream if you weren’t trying desperately to hold yourself together. And it’s not like you didn’t have passing thoughts about him. He was gorgeous, after all. But not only that, you saw how he acted with the others at the hotel. He was sweet, and silly, and fun, even though you never got to experience it first hand. Now you knew where Charlie had gotten it from.

But of course those thoughts never stayed. He didn’t like you, right? So instead of wallowing in what could never be, you thought it best not to dwell. But now…now those thoughts were coming back in full force. The aching between your legs only grew as the very fresh images of Lucifer naked and moaning in his bed flooded your mind.

There was a knock at the door.

[kaydenverse]

Needy

pairing: König x gn reader

18+ MINORS DNI

genre: absolute filth

word count: 814

content warnings: size kink, overstimulation, begging, uhh idk

a/n: woaahh using proper punctuation now anyways i’m deeply in love with könig like very deeply

“I’m sorry,” König pants has he desperately ruts his hips against yours. “I’m sorry Mein Liebling, you just feel so good I can’t stop.” he groans against your shoulder.

You whine out, high and loud, when he pins one of your wrists next to your head while his other hand grips your hip. He’s still careful to not lean too much of his weight on you despite his rough handling of you at the moment.

He’d never forgive himself if he ever hurt you more than you can handle even after telling him countless times that you truly don’t mind.

“König-!” Part of you wants to arch into him and beg him for more but another part of you also wants the mattress beneath you to open up and swallow you whole so you could catch a few seconds of peace, a moment to piece your thoughts back together, before König is prying open the jaws of the cushiony monster and diving in after you to jumble your head all over again.

“Shh shh, you can handle it.” König nearly chokes on a moan when you tug at the ginger hair on the back of his neck.

You turn your head to the side and squeeze your eyes shut. There’s too much of that wonderful feeling pulsing through your body and you kick one of your legs out as if that will extend some of the pleasure outside your body but you’re simply stuck with the overwhelming buzz. In fact, your squirming is making him get just the right angle.

you’re going to burst at the seams.

“Baby,” You whimper and yank his head back just enough so he can see your face. “Please I can't.” you whine yet make zero effort to stop him.

König shoves his face back into the crook of your neck. “I’m so close, you feel so good. Been thinking about this all day.” his whiny tone is almost competition with yours.

König had been so needy all day, so much so that Horangi definitely caught the several times the Austrian man had pulled you aside for a not so sneaky kiss or two… or three… Horangi did walk in on the two of you making out on the sparring mat after König had pinned you during a sparring match. The both of you quickly apologized and excused yourselves from the room with Horangi teasing the two of you on your way out.

A short walk to your room on base and an hour later he's made you cum three times already, twice with his mouth because he eats like a starved man and once with his fingers while forcing you to look directly into his chestnut colored eyes. You’re quickly approaching your fourth high as König fucks you as if it’s the last thing he’ll ever do.

“You’re so small.” König lets out a breathy laugh above you. “Yet here you are taking me so well aren’t you?” he leans his kissed raw lips closed to your ear and what he whispers makes your mind go blank.

“I could break you and you’d love it, meine liebe.”

König, your darling boyfriend who shyly asks to kiss you and gets flustered when you call him pretty. Your König who handcrafts you gifts to leave in your bed whenever you're away on missions. you two are so sweet to one another around others that no one would ever guess that you both shamelessly get off on threatening one another while you fuck.

And you wouldn’t want it any other way.

The moan that escapes you is loud and König has the audacity to laugh at you. “I’m, ooh-“ you’re hurdling over the edge before you can get the words out.

König’s rhythm falters as you completely come apart underneath him. You scratch at his broad shoulders and shake, your high so intense your lips part but no noise falls from them. The Austrian manages to slide out of your despite your legs trying to lock him in place and he spills his release all over your stomach, whimpering and whining. He adores seeing you covered in his mess.

You barely have time to recover before König is frantically kissing down your torso to lick him his mess. You stare at the ceiling and shiver at the sensation of your König lapping up every last drop of his own cum on your stomach. Just when you think he’s done, he’s kissing down farther and that causes you to snap your head up to look at him.

“baby, wait,” You tug at the hair on the top of his head which only earns you a pleased moan as he settles himself between your thighs again. “please I can’t” you whine but he sees right through your fake protest.

“You can,” König hoists your thighs over his shoulders yet again. “and you will.”

[unforgivenn]

CHOKING IN WHUMP

I know this is like very basic in whump but its something I just CANNOT get over with.

It’s not just about the physical pain but also the mental and emotional anguish. It’s like a perfect storm of fear and helplessness, and that combination really gets me hooked.

Plus, there's something about the dynamic it creates between the whumpee and whumper. It adds layers of control and power plays, which can make the whole situation even more intense. The way it forces characters into such a vulnerable state is just sooo deliciousss.

What I love the most is the thought's that whumpee gets while being choked. When a character is choking, it’s like everything else fades away, and it’s just them and this immediate, life-or-death struggle. The thoughts are the one thing that changes the whole situation. It ramps up the tension and keeps them on edge, wondering how they’ll get out of it or if they’ll even make it.

Whumpee's breaths are ragged, each gasp a desperate plea that falls on deaf ears. The world seems to be narrowing, collapsing into a pinprick of darkness as their lungs scream for air that isn’t coming. Their mind races, a jumble of fragmented thoughts. Is this how it ends?

Whumpee can feel the pressure tightening, relentless. Their vision blurs, and they struggle to focus on anything but the suffocating grip around their throat. The room spins, and their heartbeat feels like it’s trying to break free from their chest. It’s like being trapped in a nightmare where the walls are closing in, and there’s no escape.

There’s an almost surreal clarity in this moment of terror. They think about everything They won’t get to do—no more sunrises, no more laughter, no more moments of peace. All those simple things I took for granted are slipping away, one choking gasp at a time.

Whumpee's hands claw uselessly at the constriction, nails digging into their skin, but it’s like trying to fight a storm with bare hands. Whumpee's thoughts are a blur of panic and regret, all mingled with a helpless resignation. I’m fading, losing grip on everything familiar.

The worst part? The absolute isolation. In this moment, no one can hear my silent screams. I’m utterly alone, drifting into the darkness with only the oppressive pressure as my cruel companion.

Is this it? Is this what it means to truly lose yourself? To have your life squeezed out of you, one choking breath at a time? The fear grips them like icy fingers, and whumpee can’t help but think that there’s no coming back from this.

Oh god oh god oh god Please please Im sorry im sorry

Please let my family be okay..

Finally.

So, yeah, choking in whump isn’t just about the physical act. It’s about the emotions, the stakes, and the dynamic it sets up. :))

[elizabethsnuts]

So what about winterwidow's little daughter being so obsessed wither her Uncle Steve? Bucky and Nat gettin a lil jealous at Steve bc yn always wanna be with her Uncle Steve...

Uncle Steve

WinterWidow x Daughter!Reader

Summary: You absolutely adore your Uncle Steve and your parents are feeling a little jealous.

———

You adored her Uncle Steve, how could you not? He is the Captain America himself. You were always toddling after him, clinging to his leg or reaching up with tiny hands, begging to be picked up. Natasha and Bucky couldn't help but feel a twinge of jealousy as you seemed to prefer Steve's company over theirs.

One evening, as Natasha and Bucky settled you into bed, you began to protest, "No nigh-nigh, Mama! No nigh-nigh, Dada! Want Uncle Steve!"

Natasha exchanged a knowing look with Bucky as they both chuckled softly. "Sorry, sweetheart, Uncle Steve has his own room. You can see him in the morning," Bucky explained gently, tucking you into bed.

But you weren’t convinced. With a pout, you crossed your arms and declared, "No! Want Uncle Stevie's silly voice!"

Natasha and Bucky exchanged amused glances before Bucky said, "Alright, how about Mama can tell you a story tonight?"

You considered this for a moment before nodding eagerly. Natasha began to weave a tale of her exciting missions and crazy encounters, keeping it toddler-friendly of course. Your eyes slowly drooped shut, lulled by your mother's soothing voice.

As both of your parents walked out of the room, Bucky couldn’t help but joking say, “Does she forget we are her parents sometimes?”

Natasha couldn’t help but snicker, although the thought crossed her mind. She bit her finger lightly and settled in their bed.

The next morning, you were up bright and early, bursting with excitement as you raced through the compound in search of Uncle Steve. Finding him in the kitchen, you tugged at his hand, your words coming out in a jumble, "Uncle Stevie! Uncle Stevie! Want to play!"

Steve chuckled and scooped you up into his arms, planting a kiss on your forehead. "Good morning, Y/N! How about we have breakfast first, and then I'll play a game with you?"

Your face lit up with a grin as you nodded enthusiastically, already chattering about your favourite breakfast foods.

“Strawberry better on pancakes.” You declared as you shoved some fluffy pancakes in your mouth. The sweetness of the strawberries tingling on your tongue.

“Mmm, I think blueberries are better.” Steve responded, putting a blueberry on your pancake.

“No way Jose! You eat your stinky blueberry!” You threw the blueberry back at him with a giggle. You shook your head and sighed, speaking under your breath. “Silly Uncle Steve.”

Steve laughed lightly and shook his head, turning his eyes back to his news paper. How old fashioned of him.

As the days passed, Natasha and Bucky watched with amusement as you continued to shadow Steve, playing all sorts of games. ‘Monster’ was one of your favourites as Steve pretended to be a Monster and chased after you. But one night, as they were settling into bed, you came racing into their room, your expression one of frustration.

"Mama! Dada!" you exclaimed, your little fists clenched at your sides, "Uncle Steve keeps telling me old man stories, and I wanna play with you!"

“What kind of stories, sweetheart?" Bucky asked, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

You huffed, your cheeks flushed with frustration. "He keep talking ‘bout 'good ol' days' and how things different back then. I just wanna play!"

Natasha stifled a laugh, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "Well, maybe Uncle Steve just wants to talk about his time in the old days?”

You shook your head. “Tell him he need to talk faster!” You said with a groan, falling onto the bed dramatically.

Bucky laughed. “What? Is he boring you to sleep? Do you start snoring every time he starts telling a story?” He asked with amusement.

You nodded and groaned again. “So sleeeepy.” You suddenly sat up and faced Bucky. “Daddy! I not snore!” You huffed and crossed your little arms.

Natasha started to laugh as she saw your little cranky face. “Alright, alright, you don’t snore, you silly goose! Do you just want to play with Mama and Dada?”

You nodded eagerly, your tiny fists clenched in determination. "Yeah! I wanna play hide and seek with you and Dada!"

With a chuckle, Natasha and Bucky agreed, setting off on a game of hide and seek that spanned the entire compound. Your laughter filled the air as you darted from room to room, your parents hot on your heels.

You spent the evening playing games and laughing together, forgetting about how boring Uncle Steve’s stories could get. Natasha and Bucky realized that no matter how much you adored Uncle Steve, your heart would always belong to your loving parents who always had much more exciting stories.

[biolumien]

hi! o em gee i am absolutely in love with ur writing! i quite literally devoured ur master list when i discovered ur blog. i love how you write all the characters it truly makes me feel so warm and fuzzy inside >_<

since requests are open i was wondering if you could write some hurt/comfort for reno ichikawa where the reader puts themselves in danger to protect reno but reno gets upset by this as he can’t stand the thought of possibly losing them :’))

if you don’t want to write this it’s totally okay! and thank you so much for taking the time to read this <33

notes: hi hi yes :') of course i can do that for you!! i am still. a bit under the weather while writing this so its a bit on the shorter side so i hope that's okay... blehh

i need a doctor!

reno ichikawa x gn!reader mentions of hospitals / burns word count: 509

you were always the self-sacrificing type. you frequently disregarded your safety–mostly because you felt it wasn’t that important deep down. after all, you were a measly little tick in the cog of a machine far larger than you, composed of parts that were much more valuable and important. what did it matter that one small cog got knocked out of line?

that’s what you told yourself frequently.

you’d jumped in front of a wyvern kaiju’s blast, shoving reno out of the way as you took the full brunt of the attack. in woozy vision, you watched as reno screamed something, rushing forward towards you as everything went black. 

when you next awoke, you were in the hospital. pain ripples across your body unevenly–and as you look down, your entire chest is wrapped in bandages, a nasty burn spreading across your arms. as you look up, you find reno looking down at you–exhaustedly at first, but then wider and with more urgency as soon as he realizes that you’re awake.

he immediately lets out a shaking sigh. 

“reno?” you ask worriedly. “are you–”

“are you insane?!” 

you’ve only heard reno shout a handful of times. most of the time it was always lighthearted–him yelling at kafka to quiet down, a casual shouting match between him and iharu, but to hear it targeted at you was something else entirely. he brushes the corner of his eye, taking a breath.

“sorry for shouting,” reno says, leaning forward to pull you in as tight of a hug as he possibly dared to, gingerly moving his arms around your wrapped ribs. “i just… i don’t like seeing you do that.”

“i wanted to help,” you murmur weakly. 

“there were other ways you could’ve helped other than doing that,” reno says weakly, pressing his face against your shoulder gingerly. “you could’ve died there. what were you thinking, tanking the wyvern’s breath like that? that thing can destroy buildings! how could you–”

“it was going to hit you,” you whisper, reaching up a shaking arm to touch the nape of his neck, gently pulling him a little closer. “i couldn’t have let that happen. i’m not–as strong as kikoru, i couldn’t have blasted the head of that thing right off–i just didn’t–i just didn’t want to…”

“i don’t want to lose you!” 

reno’s voice shakes as the words come out in a jumbled mess.

“i don’t… i don’t want to lose you,” reno repeats. “every time you do–every time you do something reckless, i get so–” his grip almost tightens on you for an instant before he remembers that you’re still hurt, and his hand loosens its grip. “i love you too much to let you do this to yourself.”

your heart thuds in your chest.

“reno,” you whisper.

“please,” reno says quietly, looking up at you, his eyes brimming with tears. “promise me. promise me you won’t do anything like that again.”

“i promise,” you say, pressing your face against reno’s cheek. 

and when reno leans into your touch, you think you hear him laugh.