#we are SO owed an apology dance

[ghostvibesonly]

when i said i wanted the angel and demon to finally get together tHIS WASN’T WHAT I MEANT-

[kaythefloppa]

I always point out Bunk’d on the list of shows with a terrible finale (since S3 was supposed to be the last but it effectively did kill the quality of the show) but having watched the final episodes of Bunk’d that aired last night, I can now actually reaffirm that its ending is shit.

Because oh my god is it shit.

[heavysighing-dreamyeyes]

Request idea:

Your darling, adoring, wonderful boyfriend Jason sits you down And solemnly confesses that he is red hood. He’s been dreading this day for months. If you want to leave, he’ll understand and wait—-

WHAT DO YOU MEAN, YOU KNEW THE WHOLE TIME?

Jason thinks he’s in an angst fic. The reader is in a rom com where her boyfriend has been a ridiculously obvious superhero, but she’ll let him tell her when he’s ready.

Maybe some shaningany flashbacks where you’ve helped to keep his identity secret (stalling so he can change, giving alibis) while he was oblivious.

- Batchilla

To Wait and To Love

Hi Batchilla! Hope you enjoy! ♡ ~1.5k words

Your boyfriend is a vigilante, Red Hood, to be exact. You know this. He's just not aware you know this.

It's obvious, really, and kind of cute the way he makes excuses to leave. Sure, before you put two and two together, it was starting to seem like he was just dragging you along. But it all made sense when you caught sight of the helmet poorly concealed under his bed.

It makes you wonder if he wants to get caught. Especially when he brings you flowers from the shop you just saw him save from Poison Ivy on TV. Or freezer-burnt cartons of ice cream from your favorite ice cream shop, which was buried under piles of snow courtesy of one Mr. Freeze only twenty minutes ago.

You offer him big smiles and kisses of thanks, and your heart melts a little at how relieved he looks, how baffled he is by your understanding. And you do understand. To tell someone you run around in spandex and leather every night is a big risk, especially for someone who used to run crime in Gotham.

You're no angel yourself, even if he does call you one, and it's endearing to watch him scramble for excuses. It's even more endearing that he tries so hard to make it up to you when he's late, when he has to leave early, when he comes back battered and bruised with flimsy half-thought out explanations.

You'll let him take all the time he needs to tell you, and it's almost funny how easily you've come to cover for him.

"Jason? Oh, he's changing his suit. Someone knocked into me and I spilled my drink all over his jacket. How embarrassing," You laugh out, answering the reporter's question over Jason's absence from the latest Wayne Gala. It's only half a lie, you might not have spilled your drink but he's definitely changing his suit. It's just not the suit anyone would expect.

Once whispers of a break-in at Gotham National Bank started circulating the Gala, it wasn't hard to miss the meaningful glances between your boyfriend and his family. Sometimes you wonder how no one's noticed it before.

You smile brightly at him once he comes back, smelling like gunpowder and leather, and you let him kiss your knuckles while he mumbles apologies over getting caught up with an old friend. You don't imagine Riddler is exactly an old friend, but you teasingly tell him how he owes you a dance for making you wait. He smiles back, his own grin even brighter than yours, as he leads you to the dance floor.

You're opening the door to your apartment, chatting lazily with your friend after a night out.

"Is your boyfriend here? I remember you saying you two were practically living together," they ask, eyes trailing around your living space.

You hum thoughtfully, "We pretty much are. I think he might be sleeping or out looking for the stray cat we saw the other day. It had a bad limp." It's not a hundred percent a lie either, there was a hurt stray. You just know that Catwomen already picked it up, after a text Jason sent to Bruce Wayne's current girlfriend, Miss. Selena Kyle. Which would have been more of a surprise if you didn't already know who Batman was.

But it definitely isn't the truth, because you did catch sight of a red helmet following you and your friend back from the club. (Gotham never felt safer, than when he was watching over you.)

Your friend coos and starts to respond, when a thump sounds from the fire escape. They jolt, "What was that?"

"The cat, probably," You say quickly, letting out a laugh, "it's, uh, pretty big. Has a limp. Hey, did I show you the flowers Jason got me?" You gesture towards the bouquet behind them, and you both focus on the pretty blossoms.

Within minutes, you hear your bedroom door open and close. "Hi, baby," Jason drawls, looping an arm around your waist to pull you to his side, "Sorry, I fell asleep, how was your night?"

You pretend not to notice the limp he's nursing, one you're certain he should be resting, and tilt your head up to kiss his jaw, "It was fun. Missed you."

"I missed you too," he echoes fondly, and the three of you fall into an easy conversation. You distract your friend when you all go to sit on the couch, and if you choose to avoid sitting on his left side, it's certainly not because Red Hood hurt his leg fighting Killer Croc earlier this week.

Jason has never said your name like that before. His eyebrows are knitted together. He's kneeling in front of you, his hands clasped over yours as you sit on the bed.

"I love you and I– I have something to tell you," he chokes out, strained, "please, just– just, hear me out."

It clicks. This is it. He's going to tell you.

You smile and nod, it'll be nice to finally air out this secret. And maybe he could help you work on your excuses? It'll be easier if you're working as a team. You reach out and brush his hair back, unfazed and delighted he's trusting you enough with this, "Of course, Jason. Anything you need to tell me."

Jason is going to throw up. He's finally gotten his act together enough that he's going to tell his partner he's Red Hood. His stomach is churning, it's agony, knowing he could lose them over this.

They're so good to him. So understanding and patient and kind. He has no idea how he got so lucky. And he loves them. It's scary sometimes, how much he loves them. He wants this to last so badly. So, he has to be honest. Has to tell them he isn't what the world says he is.

He's a vigilante. Was a crime lord. He hurts people to save people. He terrifies the trash that calls themselves human. He's not good for you, but he tries. He wants you to still love him.

He wants you to stay so much. Even if he's not good. He wants you. You deserve so much more than the excuses and lies he gives. Jason's wanted to tell you for weeks, but he chokes on his words every time. He's never been so afraid of doing something. Not when he was a kid on the streets. Not when he was Robin. Not as Red Hood.

You look so perfect, sitting at the edge of your bed and smiling at him. He almost flinches when he thinks this could be the last time you smile at him.

He's on his knees. He's prepared to beg. He would beg to keep you.

He says your name, he tells you he loves you. It might be the last time he gets to say that to you. The thought makes him even more nauseous. He tells you he has something to say.

You brush his hair back and keep smiling. He wants to sob. You don't know. You don't know what he is, what he's done.

"I'm Red Hood," he gasps out, voice ragged.

A beat. You're still smiling, you still look happy, and you're nodding at him.

He blinks at you, "I'm Red Hood," he repeats, "I know that- I know it's a lot. I understand if you never want to see me again, but, baby–"

You lean forward and kiss him. He's more than just a little dumbfounded. "Jason, I love you too. I'm not leaving you. I, um, kind of already knew you were Red Hood?" You say, a sheepish smile coming over your face.

"You– what?" Jason stumbles out. You're still here. Still touching him. You kissed him. You look relaxed. Happy.

"I saw your helmet under the bed. Everything clicked after that," You tell him gently.

"And you're okay with that? You're okay with me?" He asks, tone betraying his desperation.

Concern flashes in your eyes, "Of course I'm okay– I'm more than okay with that, Jason. I love you, tights or not."

He lets out a laugh, and his stomach swoops, the tension dissipating throughout his body, "Yeah?"

You grin at him, cupping his face, "Yeah, but you're going to have to show me how you swing around rooftops."

He gets off his knees to kiss you again, he doesn't think this moment could get any better, "Is that all?"

You giggle, at the pure elation in his eyes, and he grins widely at your joy. Then, the moment does get better, "Well, I'm kinda interested in the car Batman drives around you."

"I could make that happen," he murmurs, and seals the promise with another kiss, "You wanna see the batplane too?"

Your eyes light up, and Jason thinks he might be addicted to the mischievous glint that flickers in your gaze.

[lovableapocalypse]

birds of a feather

benedict bridgerton x fem!reader

wc- 900ish

warnings- none, i think!

a/n- season three fueled this lolol. i love benedict he's the best bridgerton and i stand by that. anywayyy here's a cute short fic. i hope you guys like. love u all. send any request you want! i need to start writing again. (also this is the first fic ive written/published in like 7 months so sorry if im rusty lolol.) also title inspired by billie's new song. ok bye love u.

Benedict was uncomfortable. He was trying his best to avoid the bustling mamas and crowded dance floor, but seemed to be swept in the middle of it all. He sought comfort in the refreshments table but even there his luck was thin. 

Tired of making horribly awkward eye contact with debutantes and failing to find any more of his siblings to hide behind, he shifted quickly out of the ball and into the quiet anteroom. Glancing over his shoulder and turning a corner, he bumped into a figure with an “Oomph.”

He recovered and caught the mysterious figure before they fell. 

“My apologies.” He spoke, helping who he now recognized to be a lady stand upright. 

You turned to face him more fully, caught off guard. “That’s alright.” You were partly breathless from the unexpected run in. 

It was just the two of you in the secluded room. “Hiding as well, I presume?” You spoke. 

Benedict laughed, “Yes.” 

You smiled in return. “It’s refreshing to know someone shares a similar distaste for these things at times.”

“Very much so.” He sighed and raised his brows, his hands finding his hips. 

You went to speak again, but heard heavy footsteps approaching from the crowded party. You looked to Benedict who seemed to read your mind, quickly grabbing your arm and shoving you two around the corner, flush against the wall. His hand stayed attached to your arm as you panted and tried your best to stay unnoticed. 

The footsteps faded and you glanced sideways at the Bridgerton as they did. Holding in your amusement was difficult and when you were sure it was safe to, you let out a laugh. Benedict, despite becoming somewhat flustered in your hasty escape, joined in your laughter. 

You sighed and rolled your head to glance at the man again. His smile was contagious and you were happy to have a moment alone with him. Even if it was improper in society’s eyes. 

Sighing you spoke, “I should probably return soon. Before my absence becomes anymore obvious.” 

“Is your attendance of great importance?” Benedict questioned. 

“Partly.” 

“I see.”

You smirked as he took in your appearance. “If you find your way back, I’d be happy to keep you company. Maybe everyone will keep their distance if we seem engaged thoroughly with one another.”

You watched his face as he contemplated your offer. He nodded slightly, agreeing. 

Only then did you realize he was still holding onto your arm. He glanced down as well, gently releasing you from his grasp. You peeled yourself off the wall and made your way back to the ball, but not before looking back once more and meeting his eyes. 

You felt your face flush as you reentered the extravagant event. It was nice to have shared a moment away from everyone. You greeted more people and quickly became engaged in dull conversation with guests, thrown right back into the chaos of the function. 

Benedict was still loitering in your previous hiding spot. He needed a moment. He was surprised to have found someone else avoiding the party as well. Especially a beautiful woman like yourself. 

Taking a deep breath and putting on a brave face, he made his return to the ball. His eyes cast around the room searching for you. He was happy to take you up on your offer and stick by your side for the rest of the night. He located you near the balcony and made his way. 

You were nodding your head along in distracted agreement when he interrupted. 

“I’m sorry to intrude,” he started, “but I’m afraid I owe the miss a dance.”

You smiled as you took Benedict’s outstretched hand, sending a half-hearted apology to the interrupted guest. He led you to the dance floor as a new song poured out of the ensemble’s strings. 

You followed his lead in a content silence, merely enjoying each other’s presence. He smiled down at you, leaning close in a whisper. “Where have you been all night? We could have avoided hiding all together if I had found you sooner.”

“I’m afraid more people wanted to converse with me than necessary. A bit annoying, truly.”

“Understandable. I was avoiding conversation myself when I snuck off.”

You smiled and he pulled you closer, enjoying the movement of your bodies. The song came to an end and you were disappointed in having to face the crowd again. Benedict held his arm out for you and you graciously accepted. 

“There you are!” 

You turned together and came face to face with Violet Bridgerton. 

“I was wondering where you two ran off to. Almost sent Anthony to find you until I spotted you on the dance floor.” 

“Ah, yes Mother.” Benedict answered. “We just needed a moment.”

She nodded in understanding before stepping closer, “Do I need to remind you this ball was thrown in your honor? I understand you two are newlywed, but please refrain from ditching your own party.”

You blushed and hid your face in Benedict’s shoulder.

“Yes, Mother.” He laughed. 

“Thank you.” She smiled and sent you her undeniable look of understanding. 

“We were not as sly as I hoped.” You mumbled. 

“Next time warn me before you run off so we can go together.” He added.  

Laughing, you faced him and pressed a kiss to his lips. “Of course, husband.” 

[sturnsmadl]

bf!matt headcannons!

warnings!- swearing, angst (light ig), mostly fluff, some smut, not proof read, lover boy matt tbh, cuddling, kissing, idk what else :).

bf!matt who loves holding hands.

bf!matt who is possessive at parties.

"who's that?"

"some drunk guy. thought i was his girl."

"right.."

kisses you

bf!matt who refuses to let you do anything.

"the laundry.."

"nuh uh. move."

bf!matt who ties your shoelaces for you.

"i can do it matt."

"so can i."

bf!matt who keeps his hands warm in your jeans back pocket.

bf!matt who loves physical touch.

bf!matt who always drags you on late night walks during fall.

"we went last nightt!!"

"babe. fall doesn't last forever."

bf!matt who wipe your tears and hugs you when your upset.

"shh..your okay.."

bf!matt who adores carrying you.

"matt i can walk."

"i knowww. but carrying you is fun."

bf!matt who gets you a cat.

"its for you!"

"is it..?"

"i mean...mainly me..but yeah.."

bf!matt who can't stop touching you.

"matt its too hot. let go."

"your too hot."

"fuck off matt."

laughs

bf!matt who isn't massive on PDA but will do small touches.

bf!matt who loves hooking up in his car.

"fuck...yes baby.."

"matt! yes..fuck! yes!"

bf!matt who gets hard from you just sitting in his lap.

bf!matt who is definite that you're the mother of his children.

"we all have that phase matt."

"its not a phase. she's gonna be the mother of my kids chris."

"okay buddy.."

bf!matt who buys you a lot of makeup.

bf!matt who loves giving you hugs and cuddling.

"hi baby."

"oh hi. your back early huh?"

"yep..cuddles?"

bf!matt who made you your own drawer in his room.

bf!matt who always wants to be helping you.

"okay..lets wash this hair. huh?"

"i can wash it.."

"your tired and i love you so im gonna help."

bf!matt who needs to be near you at all times.

"where'd you go?!"

"to the bathroom.."

"jesus..could've told me.."

"wha- yeah..okay. go to sleep."

bf!matt who sits outside the shower door while you shower.

"and i was thinking. what if i just taught you to drive?"

"do we need to talk about this while im showering?"

bf!matt who loves filming sex tapes, especially backshots.

bf!matt who is extremely moody when you're gone.

"matt can you take the-"

"fuck off!"

"jesus..the fuck happened to you.."

bf!matt who hates arguing but you clearly pushed too far.

"probably my other man."

"what...?"

"what? i was kidding..matt.."

bf!matt who gives you silent treatment all day.

"can we talk..matt? come on.."

bf!matt who just cooks for himself he's so mad.

"you made my favourite? oh.."

walks away with a plate for himself

"fucking hell.."

bf!matt who doesn't pay attention to your apologies.

bf!matt who shoves past you, not realising how strong he is.

bf!matt who feels horrible when he accidentally hurts you.

"ow.."

"oh shit.. sorry baby. im so sorry okay? you're okay.."

bf!matt who finds you crying and is immediatley there.

"hey..is it still hurting? im so sorry.."

"no..im pregnant.."

bf!matt who attacks you with a hug when he finds out your pregnant.

"what?! oh my..oh my god! yes yes yes!"

bf!matt who is obsessed with your bump.

"so cute. a whole life's in there.."

"yep..you excited?"

"so."

bf!matt who is extremely overprotective while your pregnant.

"no!!"

"jesus..what?!"

"i can load the dishwasher. you sit."

"you made it sound like i was commiting a crime.."

bf!matt who always texts you while he's filming/streaming.

"can you put your phone down for 2 minutes??"

"yeah one second.."

"you said that 5 minutes ago!"

bf!matt who lets you force him into doing a tiktok dance with him.

bf!matt who freaks out at the birth.

bf!matt who takes the drive home a bit too carefully.

"babe, i know your nervous but we are barely moving."

"im not hurting the baby. im doing 20.."

"thats the problem."

a/n- this is just general bf matt unlike my others but yeah so this may push me back into my break because its absoulutely awful!! but im thinking of doing a halloween theme, doubt ill pull throught though! im so tired :)

taglist! @bellaonthelow @hrtsdollie @sturnclouds @christophersgf @ellizzyy @moonk1ss3d @phoenix062 @pixxiies @conspiracy-ash @blahbel668 @monroesturnns @gwennybenny @sturnobsessedwh0re @xoxo4chriss @pixie-sticks-are-good @wurlibydominicfike @anitahunt @ilusa @mattstrombolii @stvrlighht @asherrisrandom @amelia-sturniolo3 @lianomer

[satorusugurugurl]

My Wedding Date is an Escort!

Summary: When invited to your best friend's wedding, you panic. One of the groomsmen, Toji Fushiguro, is your ex-fiancè. Not wanting to deal with probing questions and the embarrassment of being single, your friend Haibara recommends using an Escort! Taking a leap of faith, you book one my, the hottest one. Gojo Satoru is hot, sweet, and funny! The package deal! Men and Women pay thousands to go on a date with him (even more, which he doesn't do often). So when your request comes in, the desperation and pleading tone of your voice. Gojo’s heartthrobs, even more so when you tell him you don't want to have sex.

Pairing: Escort!Gojo x FAB Reader

Word Count: 5,115

Warning: cursing, apologies, fingering, handjobs, smut 🥹, fluff

A/N: Well everyone, we have one more part of this series. 🥲 But I plan on taking requests for our sweet, complicated couple! !! If you want to be included in the tag list, YOU MUST HAVE AGE LISTED! Thank you!!

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five Part Seven Part Eight

“You want what?” Satoru stared blankly at you, blinking ever so slowly like a cat. Your words seemed to have short-circuited his brain.

“I said I want a refund.” your tone is stoic, “I am not happy with the services I was provided.” Satoru’s shocked expression twists into a wide grin as you stick your bottom lip out in a pout. “High-end escort, my ass.”

Satoru laughs, throwing his head back as a faint flush grazes over his cheeks. “Yeah? Not happy at all, huh?” His eyes dance over your features.

“Nope! This jerk got up and left me after I paid him.” You shrug your shoulders dramatically. “Not only am I out an ungodly amount of money, but I’m also dateless for this wedding.”

“He sounds like a class-A-asshole.” Satoru’s hand gently reaches out, cupping your cheek.

“Yeah, he was.” His heart flutters at ‘was’ instead of ‘is,’ an ember of hope flickers to life in his chest. “Then again, he said sorry, and punched the hell out of my asshole ex, so I guess he isn’t that bad.”

Satoru’s fingers are so warm and gentle against your face. His thumb brushed over tear-stained cheeks as he pulled you in, closing the distance between you. His forehead presses gently against your own as he shuts his eyes.

“I’ll make sure you get every last cent back.” White lashes life, pools of breathtaking blue peek through them, meeting you. “It’s the least I could do.”

“Cool,” you sighed, leaning into his touch, “I would like to use that money to take a few pastry classes.”

God, hearing you say that makes Satoru’s heart leap with joy. “Money well spent, not that you need it. Your pastries are the absolute best.” your hand reaches up, gently holding Gojo’s firmly against your cheek, not allowing him to move. He swallows thickly at the regret forming in his throat. “I’m so fuckin’ sorry.”

“How long did it take you to figure out it wasn't me after you left?”

“Maybe an hour,” he scoffed, his breath hot against your lips, “I honestly have to give Suguru the credit. He knocked the sense into my head.”

“Thank God for Suguru.”

“Yeah, he called me a fucking idiot.”

“Well—.”

“I know, I was the biggest fuckin’ idiot.”

Silence washed through the room. It wasn't uncomfortable in the silence, reminding you of the first night you two spent together. Things had been so smooth and natural with him, and they still were. Satoru hadn't believed you at first. He said some fucked up shit, but he had apologized for them. He had told you himself that he wanted to make your relationship work.

Staying angry and pushing him away would be too easy. You could quickly write this off as another failed relationship. Or you could do one of the hardest things a person could do.

You could fight.

Fight for what could be a relationship that only comes once in a lifetime. Fight for a future. You could fight to see this through, to see where it took you both.

You sat back, sighing dramatically. “I guess I owe Suguru a drink when you introduce us.” Cerulean eyes were the size of peas as your words washed over Satoru.

“What?”

“Or maybe I’ll take him to lunch for his help.” Heart thundering, you did your best to keep cool, examining your nails boredly. “Or better yet, I could make us three dinner. I may be a professional baker who works with confectioners sugar, but my curry is to die for.”

“S-Sweetheart—”

You grabbed Satoru’s face, pulling him as close to you as possible. “Toru,” The man stiffened at the use of his nickname, “you said what we have is worth fighting for. That you want to be with me.” You inched closer to his face, your fingers brushing over his cheekbones.

“I did say that, and I meant every word.” He leaned into your touch, his hands caressing your bruising knuckles.

“Are you positive?”

“I wouldn't have said it if I wasn't.”

“How can you be so sure? How will we make this work when you're an escort?” Dread worked its way through your stomach, settling over your chest. “I—I don't think I could just wait at home for you to come back from work. But I also don't want to keep you from doing something you love. You do it to help people; it makes you happy. I don't want to take that away from you.”

From the mere silence, you weren't sure what was going through Satoru’s mind. He just stayed stoic, glancing over you with an unreadable expression. God, maybe this was something he didn't want to give up.

What felt like an eternity of silence ended as Satoru moved. Your hands fell onto your lap as he ran his hands over your upper arms in smooth, gentle strokes. You had been so uncertain of what he would say or do, how he would react to your hesitancy. The way his crystalline blue eyes burned with a fiery passion told you everything you needed to know without the use of words.

“Sweetheart, I would rather fight with you than take on another client.”

His words felt like they’d stolen your soul. Your bottom lip quivered just as a trembling sob had your body shaking. Satoru pulled you into his lap, toned arms wrapping around you as you straddled him. His large palm stroked the back of your head as your chest pressed firmly against his.

You tried not to cry, but the relief was too much. Soft sobs vibrated in your chest as your head buried itself deep into the crook of Satoru’s neck, your hot, joyful tears staining his shirt. Not once did Satoru attempt to move you. He did the opposite, pulling you tighter against him, his fingers curled into your hair, stroking your scalp as you sobbed.

Those few words meant the entire world to you. The doubts and fears eating away at you like moths on cloth ceased to exist. They were replaced with a swarm of multi-colored butterflies that flutter in your stomach and heart.

You could make this work.

Pulling away from Satoru’s neck, you reached up to wipe at your eyes, but Satoru gently batted your hands away. His thumbs brushed against your flushed skin, wiping away the tears of joy. His touch, much like his words, embodied his affection for you. That sweet gesture made you want to cry more, but you were confident that all the crying you'd done in the last eighteen hours had dried up your tear ducts.

“I want to make this work with you.” Satoru gently cupped the back of your head. “Thank you for giving me another chance.”

”Thank you for apologizing.” You gently ran your fingers over the fabric of his shirt. “And for punching Toji, it was so hot seeing you get all mad.”

Satoru held you tight, flopping down onto the futon with a chuckle. “You thought I was hot? Imagine me coming back to get my sunglasses with my tail between my legs to see kitchen utensils being flung through the kitchen.” He took his bottom lip between his teeth. “Seeing you going feral, slapping and kicking at a man twice your size, got me all hot and bothered.” He nuzzled your neck with a very phony bad prono moan. “I’d let you hit me all you want; just tell me I’m a good boy when you do.” His lips peppered kisses up your neck before pressing against the corner of your mouth, winning a series of giggles from you.

“Toru, you’re crazy.” Your words held no heat as you wrapped your arms around his neck.

“Mhmm, I’m crazy about you.”

You ran your fingers through his hair before you pulled him in, kissing him softly. The tension in his muscles relaxed as he kissed back. His smooth lips gently moved against yours. Maybe your lips tingle because of the taste of his mint toothpaste, or it could be the spark between you. Little fireworks exploded over your lips, deep in your chest, and even further between your legs.

The same embers that had burned hot and bright inside of you last night began to glow red hot with need. Your hands roamed down from his hair to grip his shirt, pulling him closer, deepening the kiss as you turned your head. Satoru’s eyes opened, focusing on your face. The way your eyebrows knitted together, how flushed your face and chest were, and the subtle way you rocked your hips up against him.

He pulled back, panting heavily against your slightly ajared mouth. “Sweetie.” He breathed out.

“Sorry,” you released him, “sorry.” Now might not be the right time to lose yourself into passion. But before you could spiral into your thoughts, Satoru followed your retreating hands, gently holding them.

”I don’t want you to stop.” He placed one of your hands back on his shirt, and you instantly grabbed a hold of the fabric. “Just be aware of the effect that you have on me.” He took your free hand, pressing it against his semi-hard cock that was twitching to life in his pants.

A sudden burst of confidence took over you. Licking your lips, you gently began stroking him while you gripped his shirt as tight as you could. Satoru shuddered, pressing both his hands on either side of your head caging you underneath him. A string of soft, murmured cries of your name slipped through his lips as he bucked into your hand.

”You’re twitching so hard.”

”Can’t help it, a beautiful woman is rubbing my cock.”

Releasing his shirt, you ran your hand over his arm, gently grabbing his wrist. He perked up, putting all his weight on his left hand as you gently led his other past your breasts, down your stomach, before you pressed him firmly over your clothed pussy. “I'm twitching, too.” Satoru’s cock throbbed hard underneath your palm. “You okay?” an aching growl rose in his throat as his fingers rubbed circles around your clit.

“Y-Yeah, I think I just almost came in my pants.”

“Over touching my pussy?”

“No, it's because of you.” Your hips jerked as he increased the pressure of his fingers. “You're so goddamn irresistible. I want to please you.” fingers rubbed faster, his lips trailing down your neck in open-mouthed kisses.”I want you to call out my name, to make you cum so hard you think you're about to ascend.”

“Oooh, oooh fuck.” Satoru sucked in a breath as you slid your hand into his boxers. “Toru~ Feels good.”

“Yeah, it d-does.” He choked out, sliding his hand under your panties. “Fuuck, you weren't kidding.” Thick long fingers ran over your clit, spreading your slick arousal over the tiny bundle of nerves. “You’re so wet.”

You shifted, facing him, “I wanna try something.” Satoru nodded, kissing you deeply as you both tugged your pants and underwear off, followed by shirts. Once you were bare, you slotted your hips over his legs, resting your legs on either side of him. “This way, I can kiss and touch you.” Your words cut off as Satoru slammed his lips against yours in a starved, searing kiss.

You kiss his back, moaning and gasping against his lips. He used the opportunity of you gasping to shove his tongue into your mouth. His tongue searched for yours, wrapping and massaging it with his own as his fingers groped your breasts. He still tasted like mint, and the smell of musk overwhelmed you as his fingers gently kneaded you. His hands are so warm and gentle against the softness of your breasts; it's a bold contrast to the way his mouth roughly moves against yours.

He’s devouring you, making you melt against his body. You wanted to make him feel the same way you did, warm and fuzzy. You desired for Satoru to be desperate, like a thirsty man dehydrated in the desert, and you were his oasis. Reaching between your bodies, you rubbed your fingers up and down your pussy, collecting your slick over them. Hering the pitch change in your voice, Satoru followed your hand. The instant he saw your pretty fingers rubbing yourself, he growled into your mouth before breaking the kiss.

”A-Are you that desperate for relief?” Satoru sighed heavily against your lips, tongue flicking out, licking at the drool dripping from the corner of your mouth. “All you have to do is ask, and I’ll rub that perfect pussy~”

“I-I—oooh god,” you rubbed your clit in a short circle before dipping your hand back down, collecting more of your slick. “n-not doing it for my sake.”

”No?” Satoru nipped gently at your bottom lip, his hands massaging the fat of your ass, pulling you tighter against him. “Then please tell me whose sake you’re doing it for.”

”Yours.”

Before Satoru could ask what you meant, he jumped as you wrapped your slick fingers around his thick throbbing cock. His head falls back as you begin rubbing your hand up and down his shaft, jerking him off, using your slick as lube. Feeling the heat from your juices and hand had Satoru losing himself, just like you wanted. He melted, his hands shakily grabbed you in order to ground himself as you jerked your wrist up and down faster.

”Feels good,” He groaned out, his hand dipping between your legs, fingers finding your clit. “but it’s not fair if I’m the only one feeling good now.” The tiniest moan passes through your pursed lips; your eyes meet him as you try to focus on keeping your hand moving up and down over his cock. But damn, his hands were too talented, it was hard to keep up with him. “God, you’re so wet just for me. If it feels this amazing on my fingers,” His hand dips further, two of his fingers pressing their way past your tight entrance and into your dripping cunt. “I can’t imagine how good it feels to be buried inside you.”

His fingers curl, rubbing your spongy sweet spot. They massage it, not stopping as you cry out softly against his mouth, your eyes narrowing as you stare into his eyes. They were usually full of light, but with his fingers buried inside of you and your hand wrapped around his cock, they were full of dark, desperate desire. If you were to move a certain way or make a single sound, he would be inside of you in the blink of an eye.

Which wasn’t a bad thing.

His lips were on yours, his moans flooding inside your mouth as you teased the tip of his dick with your thumb. Rubbing the pre-cum beading at the slit around the red swollen tip. Satoru’s eyebrows furrowed at the intense pleasure, his thumb mimicking the same pattern and strokes of your hand against your twitching clit. It didn’t take long for you to start rocking your hips against his hand, chasing your orgasm. Noticing the way you greedily fucked yourself on his fingers, Satoru pulled back, watching your hips rolling against him, desperately chasing the high you felt coming.

”What a good girl you are, taking what you want, what you need. I fucking love that.” A deep sigh escaped him, his breath fanning against your lips. “I love it, watching you lose all fucking control, it gets me off.” His cock twitched in your hand, emphasizing his point. “If you make yourself cum hard, I promise you I’ll make you cum ten times harder on my dick.” Satoru feels your walls flutter around his fingers. “You like the idea of that? Your pretty cunt seems to, she’s squeezing around me.”

”Y-Yeah, I want you, Satoru, want to feel you inside of me so back.”

”Cum for me first, then I’ll be sure to give you everything you want.”

You press your lips messily over his. “You promise? Promise you’ll give me everything I want?” His forehead presses against yours, his bangs sticking against your sweet sheen skin. “Promise?” You whine out desperately.

”Sweetheart, I promise I’ll give you everything you want and then some.”

Those positive affirmations were all you needed to have you gushing over his fingers. You silently scream against his lips, eyes clenched tight as you rocked and roll your hips against him. Satoru takes note of how your lips quiver and the way your back arches, pressing your breasts against his bare chest. Noting the way you sounded, how pretty you looked when you shattered and trembled in his lap as your hand squeezed his dick almost too hard as you let the waves of your orgasm hit you one after another.

Watching you cum in his lap would be a memory he’d look back on on lonely nights. God, he wanted to cum with you, to paint your tummy white with his hot seed. But the urge to pin you underneath him, you fuck you slowly, was stronger. Satoru wanted to have you cum that hard around his cock. To watch as you lose yourself in pure bliss because you deserve to. God, you deserved more than that, but this would be a good start.

He fully intended to make you feel this good as long as you would allow him.

When you found the strength to open your eyes slowly, you caught a glimpse of blue. Satoru had you pushed back on the futon, his fingers sliding out of you. His lips gently roamed over your breasts, kissing the mounds before his hands forced your legs apart. “Please tell me you still have that party favor bag.” He breathed out over your skin.

”You seriously think I would throw my terrible cheap penis candy away?” Satoru chuckled, lifting his head to watch you snatch a pink bag lying off to the side of you. “You'd be right; I fully intend on throwing it away once we use the condoms.”

“I have to admit, knowing you won’t be eating penis candy makes me feel pretty good.” He opened the bag, pulling out the six condoms shoved inside of it.

“I’m not opposed to eating penis candy if it tastes good.” A white brow arches at you. “I mean, I sucked yours last night, didn’t I?” You smirk as he fumbles, nearly dropping the foil packages in his hand. “I clearly remember just how sweet you tasted. Although I may need a reminder soon to confirm.”

”Babe, please, you’re going to make me blow my load before I even get inside of you.”

You watch as he tosses the other condoms to the side before ripping open the gold foil of a magnum condom with his teeth. ”Oooh, right, yeah.” Swallowing hard, you gape when Satoru rolls the condom over his cock with ease.

He slowly pushed his hips against yours, grinding his cock over your entrance to your clit. “Do you remember what I said to you our first night here at the inn?” Your soft moans are music to his ears as he grinds against you faster. “After you told me why you didn’t need to have sex?” Right now wasn't the time you wanted to be quizzed over things he said four days ago.

“Haah, fuck—uhm, you said you hoped that I would be able to recover soon?” His cock head pressed firmly against your entrance. “Nggh, I—I can’t remember. It’s hard to think when you’re teasing me like this.”

” No, you’re right. I did say I hoped you would recover.” His tip pressed harder against you, making your legs shake. “But I also said I wanted you to be able to have the most mind-blowing sex of your life.” The world seemed to slow as the gentleness of his words had you blinking. “I never thought I would be the one you’d be with.”

Something about the softness of his voice and the way he lovingly brushed his thumb over your bottom lip had your heart racing. This moment felt surreal as you replayed that first night again in your head. How you had cried in front of the escort you had hired to be your wedding date. He could have easily pushed you away, cringed over your complicated past, or not given a shit.

Instead, he hugged you and stroked your hair as you cried. He listened to you and allowed you to vent. This man went as far as defending you, siding with you. Satoru had held you close, bringing a certain comfort to your life you'd never felt before. It was a perfect full circle.

“I wouldn't want to be with anyone but you, Toru.” Gently cupping his face in your hands, you pulled him down, kissing him as passionately as you could. The warmth of your touch and the brush of your lips against his own made Satoru swell with excitement before shifting into a calmness that worked through him. “I need you.” You gasped out against his swollen lips.

“Then you’ll have me.”

Not wanting to waste another moment, Satoru gently pushed the head of his cock past the tight ring of muscles of your entrance. You gasped against his lips, eyes wide as he stretched you. His ab’s clenched as he held himself back, giving you a moment to adjust to his size, as his lips gently moved over your cheeks. Only when he felt your walls unclench and your legs wrap around did he begin pushing back inside of you.

Satoru couldn't get over how tight you felt wrapped around him, how warm you were. He'd slept with his fair share of people, but this, the feeling of slowly slipping inside of you for the first time, was a moment he'd never forget. From the way you smelt and how your hot breath tickled his ear. The sensation of your finger scratching gently over his undercut would forever linger because he didn't want this to be the first or last time he buried himself inside of you.

No, he wanted you to be the only person he was this intimate with again. He could easily see himself feeling this profound, this drunk off of joy and excitement each time you slept together. Satoru wanted to only hear his name on your tongue from now on.

While you couldn't read his mind or feel the emotions that course through every being of his soul, you felt the same way. Being with Satoru like this just felt right. No doubt, no uncertainty sat at the pit of your stomach. Just excitement and joy. Like you were walking a tightrope without the fear of falling.

This was perfection.

“Y-You're so tight.” Satoru choked out with a laugh as he pushed further inside of you with a whine. “Oooh, so fucking tight, baby.”

“Y-Yeah~ you're so big, really big.” Your breath chokes out as he slides deeper inside. “Haaa-haaah.” You dig your heels into his ass, pushing him further inside of your tight heat.

“N-Nnngh fuck, someone's getting impatient.”

“I can't help it, I-I want it, I want you so fucking bad.”

Satoru grunts softly, his tongue flicking over your bottom lip before hems slowly pulling out of you. “I want it too, baby.” He slowly slides back in, angling his hips to rub perfectly over that sweet spot inside of you. “And I’m going to give you exactly what you want.” His tongue gently slid past your slightly parted lips as he set a smooth and gentle pace.

You kiss back softly, flicking your tongue over his as his cock fucks you gently into the bedding. Your mind is reeling, taking over every one of your five senses, from his taste and smell. How his groans and grunts sound in your ears. You could feel his muscles twitching as his cock slowly bullied its way over your g-spot before pressing gently over your cervix. But it was the way he looked at you that genuinely had your heart stammering. Satoru was looking at you with a certain softness as his face contorted with pleasure.

You whimpered as he smiled, planting kisses down your neck, gently suckling at it. Satoru put all the emotions in his chest into those gentle, tender kisses. Savoring the way you jerked and squirmed as he gently fucked into your cunt. He suffocates on the delectable addictive air that was you. You take his breath away with every tear-filled glance into his eyes; every gasp and cry is music to his ears. So, of course, he’s lost his grip of control. Grabbing both your hands, he pinned them on either side of your head, his fingers interlacing with them as he moved at a faster pace.

“Ah—hah Toru,” you squeeze his hands, “Satorru~!” Crying out against Satoru’s mouth, you squeeze your thighs around him. Seeing you this fucked out of your mind as he fucked his thick cock deeper inside of you, only had Satoru moving faster.

“Ooh baby~ fuck~ fuuuuck~ you're getting close. I can feel it.” He grunts through gritted teeth. “You’re squeezing my cock just like you were squeezing my fingers.”

“Mmm yeah, M’ close Toru~!” You almost lose it as he grinds into you, his hips rubbing over your sensitive clit as his cock massages your sweet spots deep inside of you.

His grip on your hand tightens as he hisses, cock throbbing. “Oooh fuck, yeah baby, make a mess, make a fucking mess all over me.” One messy kiss followed by another. “Fuck~! Fuuuuck, I'm close too, gonna cum inside your tight hole~!” Nails dig into the back of his hands as your pussy clenched and twitches around him. “Yeah~ your pussy is so good~ telling me she likes what I’m saying. You want me to cum, yeah~?” Throw your head back, and you cry softly at the coil forming in your stomach.

“Y-Yeah wanna, wanna cum together~! Wanna—-ooooh god fuck me!” Satoru watched your eyes shut, tight eyebrows knitting together. He grinds his hips harder against your clit, buffs of deep growls leaving his mouth as his balls clench.

“Cum on my cock sweetheart~ yeah~ oooh fuck me yes!”

“Cu—” A scream of unfiltered ecstasy cuts off your words. Satoru watches you as you squirt over his crotch and the sheets beneath you both. “Ah!! Haaah!!”

Your trashing and shaking drives Satoru up the fucking wall. He frees your hands, gripping your hips, lifting them slightly so he can continuously fuck into your g-spot. Your legs shake aggressively as you fist the sheets. Your body was vibrating, eyes watering as you cum for a third time, watching as clear liquid soaks Satoru’s hips before you see white.

“Haa, fuck~ fuck~ fuck—” his head tips forward, watching his cock disappear inside of your convulsing pussy. “Cu-Cummin!” He bit out. “Cumming! Cumming!!” He doesn't scream like you, but he roars like a fucking beast. “Graahk! Fuuuck! Fuck!! Take it! Take all of my cum!”

You’re so sensitive it almost hurts to have Satoru thrusting himself inside you. He doesn't stop until his hips stop moving on their own, and the condom between you is filled to the brim. Only at that point does he gently pull out of you, grimacing as you wince in pained pleasure.

“Are you okay?” he gently asks as he takes the condom off, tying it to throw it in the trash can near the bed.

“I-I’m so good.” You drunkenly slur, but you haven't had a sip of alcohol. “Oh my god, I don't think I've ever cum that hard in my entire life.”

You could see Satoru swell with pride as he headed to the bathroom. “I guess my wish for you did come true.” You can hear the water running before he comes back. “How was the mind-blowing sex?”

“Confident in yourself?”

“I don't mean to come off as an arrogant ass.” He shrugs a shoulder as he drops to his knees gently, wiping your thighs and pussy clean with the warm rag in his hand. “But I'm ninety-five percent sure I saw your soul leave your body.”

“Okay! Okay!” You sputtered out a laugh as he wiped himself clean before lying beside you, pulling you into his side with a satisfied hum. “Okay, the mind-blowing sex was—” your eyes trailed up to his face, “well mind-blowing!”

“Ah~” he blows against his trimmed nails, “way to go, Satoru~” and rubs nails over his pectoral muscle.

“You dork!” you playfully smack his arm, “that was so uncool. Like the uncoolest thing to do.”

Satoru was beaming with joy as he cupped your cheek, pulling you in for a deep kiss. You sighed, missing him back roughly before pulling away with a happy hum. “Still uncool?”

“Super uncool.”

“Worth a shot.”

You lay there, tracing shapes over Satoru’s chest. “Hey, Toru?” you asked, turning your head to study his perfect face. You were surprised to see him watching you, his blue eyes tracing over the curves of your body, to the way your finger drew invisible hearts over him.

“Yeah, sweetie?”

“What are you doing this Saturday?” You swore the man underneath you twisted faster than the speed of light. There was a certain glimmer of excitement in his eyes that had your heart fluttering like the butterflies in your stomach.

“Well, I did have this client, but I was dumb enough to cancel on them, so my Saturday is free!”

“Good,” you kissed the tip of his nose, “would you like to be my wedding date?”

“I would love to be your wedding date.”

Tag List (AGE MUST BE IN BIO)

@arminloverlol l @jamzywiththejam28 @gojoful @maskedpacific @ahseyy @kash77 @sadmonke @ari-maccha @sugurubabe e @hyori2 @bluechocolatemint @itsinherited @dellappatca @therealestpussyeater @dead-at-tokyo @nvrgojover @drakenswifeyy @nealeart t @yunho-leeknow @fire-child-kira @faeryminnyx @tqd4455 5 @harmonyflora @volkins181-blog @noukstmblr @lovley212 @stinkinstuffie @desihopelessromantic @witchbybirth @sonicsolos @lilbiguy @supsiii @rentheannihilator r @bloopsstuff @pepepepepopopopo @pandoness @sw33cadav3r @rixo-19 @meguvmii @sxnkuna @mmeerraa @lemonintrovert01 @bunny-lily @kibananya @kamastar39 @rjreins @lzaj19 @tiredflame132 @manyno @oliiper @rengokushair @simp-plague @matchalatte06 @haesify @majanggeum @solarrexplosion N@tbzzluvr @username23345 @demonboyssss @sakui1

[sturniolos-blog]

Interrupted Video - Matt Sturniolo x Y/n oneshot

warnings - fluff, cute, swearing, arguing

requested ‼️

disclaimer: third person POV. This takes place at the triplets house but just know Matt is only there with Estrella since Y/n is out of town.‼️‼️

Important: let me know if you would like to be added to my tag list, people who are on my taglist get added too the end of each of my fics!!

—————————

8:48pm

“Matt, stop walking around, you’re bumping into shit!” Nick yelled at his brother, headphones on his head playing music.

Chris let out a frustrated groan into the tape he had over his mouth, Matt mixing cake mix while getting some on the table.

“You aren’t talking to me, how the fuck am i supposed to do this!?” Matt yells, his hands being thrown up in the air.

Nick starts dancing to music playing on his headphones, Chris trying to get his attention as he does a spin.

“What!?” Nick yells as he sees Chris pointing at Matt. Nick looks and sees Matt spilt have of the batter on the table.

“Matt, what the fuck are you doing!?” Nick yells, Chris sighing and shaking his head.

Matt immediately drops the spoon and slams his hands down onto the table, him letting out an anxiety breath as his hands barely miss the batter he spilled.

Suddenly he feels a soft slap on the back of his thighs.

“What the fuck are you guys doing!?” Matt yells, already stressed out enough.

“Dada! Dada!” A small voice calls out, Matt recognizes the voice of his 1 year old daughter.

A smile gets brought to Matt’s face as he reaches around his head to take the blindfold off, setting it on the table before leaning down and picking Ella up.

“Hey, baby..” He whispers as her arms go around his neck.

Nick sighs and takes off his headphones before Chris takes off the tape on his mouth letting out a small ow.

Nick goes to turn off the camera, “Matt-” Chris starts but gets cut off by Matt.

“We can finish the video later, right? Excuse me, i need to put my daughter to bed.” Matt says, slight frustration still hinted in his voice.

Nick shrugs and Chris nods.

“Alright, sweet girl.” Matt whispers as he starts to walk towards his room that he still had at his brothers house, since Y/n was out of town he brought Ella with him to stay with him at his brothers.

Matt walks in the room, closing the door behind him.

He knew he’d have to get her tired first, Y/n was always good at this part but he’d have to manage.

He sits down on the bed with her, him up against the head board as Ella rests on his chest, her facing the tv.

“Shit..” He mutters to himself as he realized he forgot to grab a bottle.

As he goes to get up the door opens, revealing Chris and Nick, Nick was holding a warmed up bottle of milk as Chris was holding Ella’s dinosaur plushy.

Matt lets out a sigh of relief, sitting back down comfortably and smiling at his brothers as they walk over.

“Here, Ellie.” Chris says as Ella takes the dinosaur plush with him, Ella kicks her feet and lets out a laugh as she holds her Dinosaur plush up to show Matt.

“I see it, baby! How cool!” He laughs, kissing her forehead as she plays with it.

Nick then hands Matt the bottle of milk.

“Thank you guys..” He says, taking the bottle. Matt clears his throat, “Sorry that i got so frustrated, it’s just been hard with Y/n being gone for almost 2 weeks already.” Matt apologizes.

“You don’t have to apologize, we get it, bro.” Chris comforts.

“Yeah, you’re good, Matt. We can finish the video later.” Nick smiles.

Matt nods before his brothers leave the room, shutting the door behind them.

Ella then grabs the bottle from Matt, dropping her dinosaur plush on the bed so she can hold the bottle on her own.

Matt leans over to grab the remote to his tv off his nightstand, turning it on and clicking through kids channels.

“Whatcha wanna watch, sweetheart?” Matt says, holding her with one hand.

As expected Ella doesn’t say anything, continuing to drink her milk.

Matt shrugs, “Spongebob it is.” Before he puts the remote back on his nightstand.

—————————

9:03

After about 15 minutes, Estrella gave her bottle to Matt before turning around in his grip and resting her head into the crook of his neck, starting to close her eyes and fall asleep.

As about 5 more minutes pass Matt hears soft snores coming from Ella, that’s his cue to go put her in the small crib that he put in this room, knowing that Estrella and him would probably spend the night there.

As Matt goes to put her in, Ella jumps up from her sleep, she lets out a whine, not letting go of Matt as she almost starts to cry.

“Ella, come on, baby.” Matt says, but she lets out one cry, Matt knowing that if she started she wouldn’t stop.

Matt sighs, picking her back up fully and bringing her back to his bed. “Okay, one night, don’t tell mommy.” He says, climbing in bed with her and laying her down, putting pillows on the other side of her as he lays down on his side.

Ella lets out a huff before rolling over onto her belly, sticking her tongue in her mouth.

Matts hand goes to her back, watching as his daughter falls asleep.

He rubs her back at a slow soothing pace. Her letting out quiet hums of content.

Matt eventually fell asleep too, let’s just say that video did not get done tonight.

—————————

alrighttt i am done i hope you guys liked this one i thought it was cute and fluffy and giving matt daddy vibes (literally) hope you liked it!

taglist: @sturniolosmind @novasturniolo03 @hearts4chriss @vinniehackerslefttoe @christhopersturniolo

[slytherinslut0]

MATTHEO RIDDLE- Beg For Me

Chapter Twenty Seven-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.

Tags: EEEEEEE ANGST!!!!! LOVE!!!! CONFESSIONS!!!! PROGRESS!!!!! Also, mentions of childhood trauma, childhood emotional abuse, parental abuse, mentions of death, extremely deep and emotional. Very painful. Also, some adorable Theo in the beginning.

FIND THE REST OF THE CHAPTERS HERE.

Just as Mattheo was on the verge of popping open the door to the washroom, he halted, pivoting back to face you, locking eyes in an intense moment.

"I'll go out first," he declared, his gaze dancing from your eyes to your lips and back, a fleeting yet charged exchange. "If Nott is still there, I'll distract him. Meet me in the courtyard."

Before you could formulate a response, he swiftly flicked the lock open and swung the door wide, leaving the room with purpose. Internally cursing him in a cascade of languages, you realized the gaping flaw in his plan--it was you who had called out to Theo from inside the washroom, not him...so surely, Mattheo's departure from the bathroom before you would hardly appear inconspicuous to Theo, should he still be lingering outside the fucking door.

Brilliant. Bloody brilliant.

Releasing a prolonged breath laden with anxiety, you pivoted back toward the mirror, meticulously assessing your appearance. Adjusting your mask, you coaxed your hair into place, smoothing down any unruly strands. Just as you were finally beginning to feel the tension ease off of your shoulders, the bathroom door groaned open once more--revealing a tall, brown-haired figure, elegantly clad in a sharp blue suit.

Your heart stuttered, and you spun around, breath catching in your throat. "Theo..."

Theo entered the bathroom, a cheeky smirk adorning his lips as he leisurely assessed you from head to toe, allowing the door to click shut behind him.

"Looks like I've finally figured you out," he declared, his voice a low, honeyed drawl. "Although it seems I'm a tad too late."

Closing the distance, you anxiously tried to apologize. "Theo, I'm so sorry-"

"Don't be, Bella," he interrupted, wetting his lips, softly raising a hand to his heart. "Your secret is safe with me."

"My...why? In exchange for what?" Your words hung in the air, lost as you struggled to make sense of the situation.

A low chuckle escaped him, his gaze lingering on your lips. "Why would you think I want something?"

Tension gripped you. "I just-"

"I already told you," he interrupted, his hand ascending toward your face, delicately brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. "I'm a gentleman, little bird...you owe me nothing...all I ever wanted was confirmation."

Your brows furrowed, his touch sending subtle tingles over your cheek as his thumb grazed against it. A delicate shiver traced its way down your spine, and the room seemed to close in as his gaze locked onto yours with an intensity that held the weight of unspoken revelations.

"Confirmation?" you questioned.

"Mm," he murmured, his eyes briefly scanning your features, and then he slowly withdrew his hand, leaving an almost lingering warmth on your skin. "Confirmation that Riddle's got it bad for you...as bad as I've ever seen it."

Your heartbeat quickened, a mix of confusion and denial clouding your thoughts. "No-"

"Yes," he retorted, a hint of amusement in his eyes at your quick dismissal. "We all could tell there was something going on with you two, little bird...we could see it in his eyes, the way he looked at you...come se tu fossi il sole e lui fosse un bambino che lo vede per la prima volta..."

(As if you were the sun, and he was a child seeing it for the first time...)

"And you...you looked at him just the same..." he added, his voice a low, encapsulated murmur, "since you've come around, it's been obvious, even to us heartless jerks, that he's different...it's clear that whatever this is, whatever you two have been hiding...È il tipo di cosa per cui aspetti per tutta la tua dannata vita..."

(it's the type of thing you wait your whole damn life for.)

Your words caught in your throat, a mixture of shock and disbelief washing over you. Stammering, you struggled to find a coherent response as warmth and bliss swirled in your chest, something deeply suppressed coming to life inside you at his revelation.

You looked up into his deep blue eyes, speechless for a moment before managing to utter, "thank you, Theo...thank you so much..."

"Of course, amore..." he said, his hands casually finding refuge in his pockets. "I understand precisely what he sees in you...I can only envision the fiery clashes of tongues you two must have..."

Smirking, you remarked, "You have no idea."

Theo chuckled, the mischievous glint growing in his eyes. As you made your way to the door, an impulsive idea took hold. Without hesitation, you spun back around, meeting his eyes as you reached for his face, drawing it down towards you, and placed a soft, lingering kiss on his cheek. With a smirk, you pulled back, leaving him momentarily taken aback.

"Your secret is safe with me too, Theodore..." you murmured, a sly grin playing on your lips. "Wouldn't want anyone to know that the Italian playboy has a heart, now would we?"

"You're absolutely right, Piccolo diavolo..." he quipped with a smirk, his eyes glinting playfully. "Now get out of here before Riddle comes to claim my bloody head."

Suppressing a snorted giggle, you confidently swung the washroom door open and gracefully glided back into the dimly lit hall. Swiftly traversing the corridor, you aimed straight for the courtyard, a subtle cringe registering as the rhythmic patter of rain on cobblestones reached your ears. As you approached the courtyard's entrance, there stood Mattheo, casually leaning against the wall, patiently awaiting your arrival.

Or rather, impatiently. "What took you so long?"

"I, uh, got caught up..." you stammered, wincing inwardly as your throat tightened. It didn't seem like the right moment to mention Theo, who had obviously somehow snuck past him. "I'm sorry."

"What am I ever going to do with you," Mattheo sighed, hint of amusement his voice as he turned toward the forest. "Come on,"

Mattheo guided you through the courtyard, the rhythmic cadence of raindrops creating a melodic backdrop to the night. The atmosphere crackled with an unspoken tension, and the moon and stars, obscured by thick clouds, added an eerie allure to an already anxious situation. Your dress, now entirely drenched, clung to your form, and navigating the wet ground in heels became an adventurous feat on its bloody own.

Frustration mounted as you navigated the slippery pathway in your soaked dress and precarious heels. An unfortunate misstep led to a stumble, and you found yourself cursing both the uneven ground and your choice of footwear.

Mattheo's irritation mirrored your own, evident in the sharp tone of his voice. "Watch where you're going, Raven..." he said, barely sparing you a glance as he continued moving. "Do I need to bloody carry you?"

You rolled your eyes, mumbling a response under your breath as you struggled to keep up with him, aggravated further by the relentless rain and Mattheo's brisk pace. The forest swallowed you both as you entered into it, its dark shadows and dense foliage intensifying the unease in the air.

"Can you please slow down?" You hissed, your voice rising over the sound of the clashing raindrops, hastily stepping over splayed branches and sharp rocks. "Is this all really fucking necessary?"

Mattheo stalled, the black fabric of his suit clinging to his strong frame, outlining the tensed contours of his body. As he paused and turned to look at you, his eyes reflected the profound darkness of the forest, deep pools of intensity that seemed to absorb the ambient light. The raindrops glistened on his chiseled features, and his once meticulously styled curls now lay flattened against his forehead, drenched by the relentless rain.

His intense gaze pierced through the darkness, capturing your soul as you staggered closer to him. The thick canopy of the trees cast shadows, with only the moon's pale glow filtering through the dense forest greenery.

"I'm giving you what you wanted," he declared, the weight of his words echoing in the eerie stillness. The moonlight outlined the contours of his soaked, dark suit, emphasizing the true irrationality of the moment, and you snuffed a scoff. "We're almost there-"

"This isn't what I wanted, Mattheo...I just wanted you to talk to me!" you snapped, frustration boiling over and echoing in the quiet forest. Your words hung in the damp air, mingling with the sound of raindrops and the distant rustle of leaves. "I'm sick of all the fucking theatrics...Gods, I'm soaked, I'm freezing, my dress is ruined, and we could get attacked by an endless array of creatures at any bloody moment....yet, you don't fucking care...you won't even slow down for me..."

Mattheo blinked, his emotions entirely indecipherable, his stern expression momentarily softening as he studied your figure. Seemingly dismissing your words, his eyes then shifted to the darkness behind him.

"I have a time frame...we need to move," he urged, but a scowl marred your face.

"Mattheo..." you pleaded, desperation laced in your voice, grabbing his arm and making him spin back around to fave you. "For Godric's sake! Please!"

Mattheo's eyes bore into you, the irritation etched on his features creating a tension that echoed through the darkened forest.

"What, Raven? What the hell do you honestly want from me?" His voice was a hiss, teeth bared, face contorted in a snarl. "You want me to tell you all my dirty little secrets, is that it? You want to know the dark corners of my past? What if I lay it all bare, and you decide I'm not the man you thought I was, huh? What then?"

You swallowed, dispelling the lump of anxiety lodged in your throat. Glimpsing the hardened features of the man before you, you mustered the courage to reach up and pull his mask off, before doing the same to yours, tossing them onto the forest floor.

"You're worried I'm going to leave," your thumb grazed his cheek as you questioned, "...is that what you're worried about, Mattheo?"

His gaze underwent a subtle transformation, softening amid a tempest of conflicting emotions. An audible swallow punctuated the charged atmosphere, the rain forming a delicate veil between you, its mist blending with the subdued downpour beneath the thick canopy of trees. Without a word, he nodded, his silent admission making your blood buzz with electricity.

"I'm not going anywhere," your whisper hung in the damp air, the fragility of your voice carrying a delicate plea. "I prom-"

He scowled, stalling your words as he shoved your hand away and attempted to step back, but you were quicker, seizing his arm and halting his retreat.

"Listen to me, Riddle...Gods, I'm not going anywhere, okay? I couldn't, even if I wanted to..." the intensity of your gaze bore into him, the misty rain creating an ethereal backdrop to the raw exchange between you.

"Yes, you could," he muttered, his voice torn. "And you will want to."

"I know your heart is at war with your head, Mattheo...but I'm here...I'm right fucking here...there's no leaving, there's no forgetting you..." you released a shaky breath, observing the subtle shift in his gaze toward your lips, his breathing gradually slowing, and you pulled him closer. "It’d be easier if you asked me to tear my heart out of my chest with my own fucking hands, then it would be to even make an attempt at forgetting you…"

"You're insane," he muttered, smirk teasing the corners of his lips, a mixture of disbelief and vulnerability in his eyes. "No wonder I can't get enough of you..."

You huffed, involuntarily blushing in response. Theo's words echoed in your mind, a persistent refrain like a neon sign blinking in the darkness. Type of thing you wait your whole fucking life for, he'd said.

As his sentiment lingered, the words dancing around you like a ghost, you felt a warmth enveloping your body despite the shivers running down your spine. The chill in the air became irrelevant, overpowered by the undeniable heat radiating from within. Gazing into those enchanting brown eyes, the ones you've let yourself drown in over and over and over again for months now, you grappled with the realization that what you felt for this boy transcended the superficial.

You didn't want him, you needed him. You didn't like him, you fucking loved him. And that meant for better, or for worse.

And as you stood there, struggling to contain the overwhelming emotion, you could hardly resist the urge to confess. Until, he raised his hand, gently pulling you closer, holding you tight against his chest. It felt like a silent prayer, an unspoken gesture for which no words could suffice.

"My childhood was similar to yours, Raven," he admitted, his words laced with a mix of reluctance and vulnerability. "Rich asshole parents, never around...dad was too busy fucking his assistant, and mom was too preoccupied spending his money to care...they pawned me and my brother off to my grandparents for most of our childhood."

Mattheo's grip tightened around you, his embrace offering both solace and a sense of protection as he paused for a moment, letting his words linger in the night air. You tensed, mentally bracing yourself.

"Which would have been fine, but my grandparents had their own issues," he continued, his voice carrying the weight of years gone by. "They split up when we were five...my brother went with my grandma while I stayed with grandpa...everyone blamed him, everyone fucking hated him, cut him out. My dad treated him like a piece of filth, as though he'd singlehandedly murdered his best friend or some shit...I was the only one he had left..."

As his words unfolded, you could feel the resonance of his pain, the narrative of abandonment and familial strife painting a somber picture in the midst of the rain-soaked forest--and at that, you could relate.

"I was all he had, and I was a fucking asshole...I treated him like shit because I felt like shit," he almost growled, his voice carrying the burden of remorse, tone becoming more strained with each syllable. "My brother was given everything--adored, loved, and cherished while I wasn't even looked at, fucking thought about. Wasn't my grandpas fault, but I took it out on him...I told him I fucking hated him, that he ruined my life. I just did whatever I wanted and he let me, because what else was he going to do?...this went on for years, until we got into a huge fight one night, and he called my dad...I left the house before he got there...just stormed out without another word..."

Mattheo's grip tightened further, his chin digging into the top of your head as he continued, the pain in his voice echoing louder than ever. "The next call I got was from my dad...telling me grandpa's at the hospital," he admitted, a heavy weight in his words, your heart beating in your throat, his echoing in your ears. "He went to chase after me and some fucking goons jumped him, in the middle of the street, while I was too busy being a fucking selfish, pathetic little bitch..."

The rawness of his story unfolded in the damp air, adding layers of complexity to the connection between you, the rain serving as a silent witness to the cathartic release of his past. Your chest rung with pain, lids fluttering shut as your lungs reached for air, gripped by the depth of the agony in his tone. Mattheo's voice trembled as he continued, the raw pain seeping into the damp air.

"It was my fault...all of it, my fucking fault...and my dad made sure to hammer that into me...every single fucking day since," he spat the words through gritted teeth, hastily letting go of you, shifting his hands to your shoulders as he met your eyes. "I reached the hospital just before he took his last breath...and you know what he fucking said to me?"

You gasped, taken aback by the overwhelming surge of emotions within him. "N-no,"

"He told me to forgive him, " he seethed, his teeth barred, tears threatening to spill from his intense gaze. "He told me to fucking forgive my dad, that insufferable prick who never spared him a fucking minute, never spared me a minute...that heartless bastard...how the fuck could he tell me to forgive someone like that? How the fuck could those be his last fucking words?"

Your breath hitched, a sharp intake of air as his words etched themselves into the recesses of your mind. The pain and raw emotion swirled around you effortlessly, an inescapable tide. “Rebelling was my coping mechanism, yet it was fleeting. Nothing I did was enough, always slipping through my fingers like fucking sand…”

His grip on your arms tightened, fingers digging in with a brutal force that threatened to splinter bones, jolting you within the clutches of his anguish.

"…I just-fuck--tell me where to put the fucking anger," he growled, the desperation in his voice palpable, echoing the tumultuous storm within him. "Fucking tell me, Raven...fuck...where the fuck-"

"Hey--breathe, just breathe," you whispered, meeting his gaze with understanding, bringing your hands up to his face, pulling him close. "It wasn't your fault...you were just a boy...a boy who needed his family...needed someone to tell him he was loved...they turned you into a fucking weapon and then told you to find peace..."

"And you were right..." he sniffed, his hands shaking as he held you; his eyes actively searching yours as if seeking solace. "...I let it all consume me...possess me," he murmured, voice heavy with regret. "I became the weapon they wanted, the one they made me out to be, because anger was better than wallowing...better than grief...better than guilt..."

Your hands trembled against his damp skin, the collective heat from your bodies hot enough to ignite the whole forest into pure fucking flame. You glimpsed his lips, and he wet them, little rivers of rain running down his skin, your hearts pounding in rhythm.

"At least rage would lift me up...make me stand..." he whispered, blinking the liquid away from his eyes, and whether it was rain or tears, you weren’t entirely sure. "Make me walk..."

"I understand..." you chewed your cheek, breath shallow as you nodded. "I completely understand."

"I've done shitty things...more than I could even begin to tell you about...all because I couldn't deal with my own bullshit, but, now...it just feels different...I feel different..." he confessed in a hushed tone, the weight of his words palpable. "Where I once craved vengeance, I now crave rest."

"Yeah?" You blinked, searching his face, thumbs softly brushing over his cheeks. "Why is that?"

"Because of you," he said, glimpsing your lips, his eyes clouded with emotion. "You gave me peace in a lifetime of war."

Your breath froze, time suspended as if under a spell, the world around you caught in a momentary stillness. Your grip on his face tightened, as though afraid he might slip away, the rain dancing around both of you in a silent cascade. And as the two of you stood there, his face, held in your hands, revealed a complexity of emotion that entirely mirrored your own--a beautiful mess, a captivating ruin.

As raindrops continued to create a soft percussion around you, you found yourself lost in the depths of his brown eyes, unsure if you were even inhaling anymore. But one thing you did know, was that this was the boy you loved, an intricate blend of imperfections, a chaotic disaster just like yourself.

In this instance, he embodied everything you've ever yearned for without even realizing it--a mix of nobility and ruthlessness, courage entwined with vulnerability, a paradoxical blend of strength and weakness. He is the type of man that you'd choose to stand beside in a war, never wishing to stand against. He's been unapologetically badass, yet somehow still possesses a heart that resonated with honesty. He was the embodiment of your dreams, realized in the midst of pure, complete chaos, and you wouldn't want to change a goddamn thing.

And just as you were parting your lips, just as you wanted to let the sacred words fall from your tongue, Mattheo's head snapped up--and then you heard it too, the breaking of branches shattered the moment, an ominous sound of something moving in the distance.

Without hesitation, Mattheo seized your wrist, his grip firm yet gentle, pulling you into motion with an intense purpose. "Come on."

Deeper into the forest you followed, the urgency palpable in each step. After a brief but purposeful journey, he slowed, guiding you behind a tree with a subtle urgency, the surroundings now cloaked in a heightened sense of alertness. As you pressed against the rough bark, the sounds of animals moving reached your ears, an eerie symphony veering closer.

In the veiled darkness, Mattheo's firm grip on your wrist subsided as he released you, his movements fluid despite the rivers of rain streaming down his face and body. Unfazed, he reached for his gun with practiced ease, the metallic click of it being cocked and the safety being flicked off resonating in the air.

Brows furrowed in confusion, you met his eyes, searching for answers. Mattheo, seemingly calm amidst the night's intrigue, noted your perplexity.

With a steady gaze, he said, "This is a thestrals' nest."

Your features contorted even further, not understanding what was happening--caught between the concealment of the tree, the mysterious sounds of the night, and the sudden revelation. Raindrops trickled down your face, mirroring the cascade of questions flooding your mind.

As Mattheo peeked out from behind the tree, you stammered, "A thestrals' nest? But...wh-what do you need that for?" Your heart thundered, fear gripping you. "...you're not hurting them, are you?"

"No," Mattheo's head whipped back at you, raising a hand to his face and pushing his sopping hair off his forehead. "I'm protecting them."

You paused. "You're-"

"Merlin's sake you ask a lot of questions, don't you?" He teased, an amused glint in his eyes despite the undercurrent of annoyance in his tone. "It's a long story, but basically I've spent a lot of fucking time in this forest...pretty much every night since first year I'd come out here...and one night, I just started studying them, their sounds, behaviours...just watching what they do."

A pause lingered, pregnant with anticipation. Mattheo cast another furtive glance beyond the sheltering tree, his gaze slicing through the darkness like a laser. When he pivoted to meet your eyes, the intensity of his gaze held a silent invitation into his life.

"But then my fascination extended beyond just watching them. I took out some textbooks, literally the only books I've ever taken out of the library, other than that book on stars, were about them...I just wanted to know everything," he said, cautiously examining your stunned face. "And by doing that I found out that they're vulnerable to certain predators, but especially Acromantulas...so as the years went on, and I noticed their population dwindling, I knew exactly the reason why, and I knew I had to do something about it."

"I tried spells, natural deterrents, enchanting the trees...didn't work. I even planted a bunch of magical herbs and plants around their nest, ones that emit scents that are repulsive to Acromantulas, but they're not strong enough, I guess." Another brief pause, another glance out behind the tree. "I had to get creative...I went to Snape...told him about my idea, and he was on board. He gave me permission to enchant the gun, and actually helped me devise a spell called Stellaverti specifically for this purpose. It's not meant to harm the spiders; it's designed to deter them effectively without causing any lasting damage."

He took a deep breath, his voice steady. "When I cast the spell on the bullets, they transform into magical projectiles. Upon impact, they create a blinding light and emit a loud, echoing noise. It's disorienting and frightening, encouraging them to retreat. The effects are temporary, wearing off after a few minutes, but the spell allows me to safeguard them while still keeping them and others free from harm."

Your jaw hung agape, every fiber of your being seemingly pulled skyward. Speech escaped you, a silent symphony of astonishment conducted within. Vibrations of disbelief and internal tremors accompanied each uttered revelation, leaving you in a state of wordless chaos. When words finally left your lips, you didn't even know what the hell you were saying.

"You created a fucking spell?"  Your voice, louder than intended, verged on a near scream. The question, a burst of astonishment, reverberated through the forest. "Why not wield your wand directly?"

"Using my wand directly poses a risk, Raven. If I were to miss, the spell might deflect, hit something else, causing unintended consequences..." he said, his expressions completely serious. "With the modified handgun, I can maintain a safer distance while ensuring precision and accuracy. It's about minimizing risks and maximizing the effectiveness of the deterrent."

He paused for a moment before adding, "Plus, having a dedicated tool specifically enchanted for this purpose allows me to act fast...I only do this for a couple weeks during the Acromantula breeding cycle, when they're more aggressive...they usually stay fucked off for the rest of the year."

As Mattheo's explanation hung in the air, you stood there, utterly speechless, your mind trying to grasp the depth of what he just revealed. The man who others perceived as indifferent to everything had been quietly dedicating himself to safeguarding these enchanting, misunderstood creatures all this fucking time. A profound sense of beauty unfolded in the revelation, leaving you stunned by the contrast between perception and reality.

Despite the rain seeping into every crevice, a newfound warmth enveloped you. In this mystical realm, your shock transformed into a profound appreciation for Mattheo's silent commitment to protect the fragile balance of the forest. It was a revelation that transcended the weather, the night, and everything else, leaving you with an indescribable certainty that you always fucking knew--beneath the surface, there was more to this man than met the eye. Despite all he's been through, there was still good in him.

"Stay put, and be quiet…” Mattheo instructed in a hushed tone, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that demanded obedience. “Please.”

When you nodded, he moved, darting out from behind the tree, shifting toward a closer one with swift purpose. Peering out from your hidden vantage point, the thestrals' nest unveiled itself--a spectral scene of maternal serenity juxtaposed against the dark mystery of the forest. Yet, the tranquility was shattered by the impending arrival of Acromantulas, their looming forms casting a foreboding shadow over the ethereal tableau.

Your focus shifted to Mattheo, becoming a silent witness to a ballet of controlled power and graceful precision. Like a predator in fluid motion, he maneuvered through the trees, a master of stealth. His every step seemed to echo with purpose, aligning effortlessly with the approaching threat while remaining veiled behind the foliage.

In the orchestrated dance between protector and adversary, Mattheo's movements radiated a controlled power, a testament to years of dedication. As he raised the enchanted gun, a cascade of spells erupted with an otherworldly grace, each shot hitting its mark with eerie precision. With each resounding pop from Mattheo's weapon, the Acromantulas recoiled, swiftly retreating into the rainy silence. The echoes of their hurried departure lingered in the air, blending with the sound of branches snapping in the distance as the forest reclaimed its calm.

Mattheo, having deftly wielded the weapon, then lowered it with deliberate ease once he had scared the last of them off. He tucked it back into his pants before moving toward the thestrals, his movements now mirroring a far more soothing rhythm. Gently petting them, he reassured the creatures that the threat had passed, murmuring words of safety and comfort amidst the delicate patter of raindrops.

Stammering through the aftermath, you approached him, your mind in complete disarray, grappling with the revelation that shattered all of your preconceived notions. Everything you thought you knew about this man had been upended, leaving you standing on the precipice of understanding, yet feeling like you were teetering on the edge of an unknown abyss.

Words eluded you, lost in the echoes of enchanted gunfire and the fading retreat of Acromantulas. Your gaze lingered on Mattheo, who now stood amidst the thestrals, his demeanor shifting from vigilant protector to a gentle guardian, and it was in this moment of perplexity, a newfound attraction stirred within you, a magnetic pull fueled by the complexity that unveiled itself beneath Mattheo's exterior. The dichotomy of strength and tenderness, protector and nurturer, had never been more alluring, and you'd never been more fucking attracted to him in your life.

As you closed the distance, his gaze met yours, the intensity in his irises now softened to a warmth akin to melted chocolate. Rivulets of rain cascaded down his face, weaving through the contours of features that seemed to shed the need for concealment. It was as though, in this rain-soaked sanctuary, he’d finally found the freedom to reveal his true self.

In the weighty silence, he blinked, a subtle tension clinging to him. "I've said a lot tonight, and I understand if it's too much for you-"

But you cut through the air, your words breaking free in an unguarded moment, shaking your head as you stepped closer, kinking your neck back to fully catch his eyes.

"I am so fucking in love with you."

——————————-

Find chapter 28->

[anemicjellyfish]

I'm on a roll thinking about this show. So let's give credit where credit is due: (Apology Tour spoilers ahead.)

Blitzø had HUGE character growth in Apology Tour.

We see in the beginning of the episode, Blitzø is behaving pretty much how Blitzø behaves normally: sexually inappropriate. It's what he's kinda been known for since the start.

We know that, prior to Full Moon, these advances were welcomed by Stolas.

However, this isn't the case now. Stolas makes it very clear that he doesn't want their relationship to be about sex. He goes on to say he doesn't believe Blitzø owes him feelings in return, but that Stolas' own confession shouldn't be ignored.

A LOT is being discussed in this scene; some things are being alluded to/danced around, while other things are directly spoken about.

But one thing is clear: things cannot go back to how they were before.

Blitzø reacts with anger, the emotion to which he is very accustomed, before running off on his Apology Tour.

To cut this post much shorter than my last analysis, we'll skip to the end party!

Blitzø finds Stolas after his (absolute banger) song. Their entire conversation scene is filled with touching, and none of it is sexual. There's no grabbing, just holding.

Blitzø's actual apology to Stolas gets interrupted by Better Than Blitzø guy. While Blitzø is clearly annoyed by this, he sees Stolas wanting to dance with this guy, and waves him off to do so. While Stolas didn't need this permission, it was polite of him to request it.

And it's the first of three major moments that Blitzø shows inner maturity.

The Blitzø from earlier that day would have shoved Better Than guy, or grabbed Stolas and carried him off elsewhere. He would have at least screamed at this guy.

While Stolas and Better Than are off dancing, Blitzø finds Verosika and gets the much needed truth: that his actions hurt people.

Which prompts the response from deep within Blitzø: "I don't wanna be this way. Not forever."

Being able to admit he wanted to change was a massive step for Blitzø.

After one more moment of anger at Better Than guy making out with Stolas, Blitzø follows Verosika's advice. He lets go.

Blitzø leaves the party without another word.

He lets Stolas have his space. He doesn't try to interfere anymore. He's said his part, albeit to a drunk Stolas, and he realizes that he can do no further good by being there.

As much as he's hurting here, Blitzø is growing.

[blossomthepinkbunny]

I think it's so fucking funny that the newest episode literally had Blitzø ask Stolas why he is even "in love" with him and all that Stolas could come up with is that he wants -someone- to care. This relationship has been set up as the most tragic thing ever where Stolas just loves Blitzø so deeply and he just can't see it, but this episode just straight up confirms what a lot of people have complained about with the Stolitz relationship. They have no common ground, they don't know a lot about eachother, theres noting that Stolas specifically seeks, that he only finds in Blitzø. They make Blitzø feel so guilty for not reciprocating/understanding the feelings Stolas has, but these feelings are completely interchangeable. Another dude just shows up, asks Stolas to dance, he says yes and the next time they're dancing, having a good time and making out right away. How am I supposed to feel like Stolas isn't just using Blitzø and throwing him away after he got everything out of him, when directly after they had their falling out Stolas just immediately has a fling with another dude. And I wouldn't mind as much if they would just stop pretending that it's specifically Blitzø that Stolas needs. Stolas wants someone to care for him, after years of not receiving love. That doesn't mean that what he did to Blitzø was fine or that Blitzø owes him an apology. And that someone could be anyone. Maybe Stolas and this new guy will become a thing and Stolas will realize that he doesn't specifically want Blitzø and that he needs other relationship experience. From what we can assume though, Stolas will be with the other guy and then realize that he and Blitzø have something they could never have, whatever that may be.

[throneofsapphics]

the ebb and flow of fate part 3

(part one) (part two) (part four) (part five) (epilogue)

Cazriel x f!Reader

Summary: Then they looked at each other, some sort of silent communication passing before their expressions shifted back to neutral as they turned to examine the surrounding area. As they turned their backs on her, right when she wanted them most. A tear finally dripped down her cheek.

Warnings: injuries, blood, poison, references to past sa, death, angst

Word Count: ~5.2k

A/N: sorry this took so long!

She paced back and forth in her bedroom, wearing a track in the wood. Overreacting. 

How does she fix this?

Wait. She paused. This isn’t her job to fix it. If they’re going to act like misogynistic, overbearing males and blame her for her sexual assault, she’s not going to give them the time of day. If they’re going to blame her for that, they don’t deserve her friendship.. 

Tears filled her eyes, as she turned to gaze at the mirror. Her hair was dull, skin pale, eyes almost … haunted. This wouldn’t do. A few deep breaths later, and she came up with a plan to get her life back. 

You can explain it, a soft feminine voice whispered in her ear. It might have been Azriel who said the words, but she knew Cassian believed them as well. They betrayed her in their own way, and she wouldn’t run to them pleading. 

If they really cared, they’d ask. She replied silently. The voice hummed. 

Her mind came back to Azriel’s threat. Don’t leave Velaris. She could play by his rules for now. Maybe even take a bit of revenge in her own way. 

-

She went out to Rita’s that night, reconnecting with a few of her friends. Lights flashed overhead as they danced, matching each other shot for shot. Thank the mother she has good tolerance. 

That night, she took out a piece of paper and tried to focus her blurred eyes. Play by the rules. 

One male looked at my ass for a secmpd. 

A female tolded me i’m preeeety.

Is that a danermeous situatomn? According two you it isss. 

She frowned down at the sheet. The words were barely legible, but he’d understand them. Play by the rules. A laugh left her as she folded the paper into fours, filled with messy creases. 

She stumbled out of her room, kicking her heels off before she left, still wearing the short and tight dress from earlier in the night. Her feet carried her down the hallway, the world swaying as she walked. 

She heard him, and slid the paper under the door, making her way back to her room as quickly as possible. 

-

Azriel opened the door, spotting a drunk y/n trailing down the hallway, holding onto the wall. He knew she’d gone out, but how much had she drunk? He crouched and picked up the messily folded paper. Her scent combined with alcohol flooded through him. This couldn’t be good. 

He closed his eyes after he read over the words. This is how she’s going to play. He should’ve known. A male looking at her ass. A female telling her she’s pretty. No threats, the bargain mark didn’t prick at him, but she was doing this to make a point. 

“Fucking brat.” He cursed under his breath. 

“Who?” Cassian asked from across the room, crossing to meet him at the door. He wordlessly passed the paper. 

Something between frustration and amusement crossed the other male’s face. “We should frame this.” 

“We’re not exactly on speaking terms with her.” They’d ignored each other for weeks now, and he knew Cassian was aching to speak to her - to clear the air and get back to their tentative friendship. But, she didn’t seem to give a damn. Going out of her way to avoid them, even training with Mor. If she wanted to play that game, he’d gladly participate. 

She’s the one who all but broke their bargain. He doesn’t owe her any apologies. 

Why didn’t you leave? His own words echoed, the broken look in her eyes took over his mind. She knows him well enough to know he didn’t mean that. He wouldn’t need to actually explain that, right? It could open up conversations none of them are ready for. 

Weeks passed, a few more notes - none of which got any kind of reaction from his bargain tattoo. The male had only sent one letter - in response to a strongly worded one sent by Rhysand. A half-assed apology he didn’t let her see. It wasn’t genuine, and maybe she was better off leaving this in the past. Part of him questioned if he should be making those decisions for her, but he was busy enough with work he could push that down. 

-

Two months had passed since the … incident, and she made her way down the hall. It was a day off for her, and she’d spend it out in the city, going through the various markets. Some fresh air would do her good - sun on her skin, and time away from the confines of the library. Her hair had some of its shine returned, her skin not quite as pale as before, and a bit of new life breathed into her eyes. She felt more like herself than she had in months. 

Of course, she still missed the two Illyrians. But - they made zero effort to approach her, and she returned in kind. 

She paused outside of the doorway to her cousin’s office. Three heartbeats. A new shield she’d experimented with hid her sound and presence completely, and their voices escaped into the hallway, clear as day. 

“Why are you avoiding her?” Rhys asked. She should leave, right now. Eavesdropping couldn’t lead to anything good. 

“Avoiding who?” Cassian hedged. 

An exasperated sigh came from Rhys. “Y/n.” 

“We don’t owe her anything. She’s nothing to us.”

Rhys snarled, she felt his power even from here. 

“Azriel,” Cassian said in a warning tone. 

Nothing. She left now. The damage was done. At least she knows exactly where she stands with them. 

In her distraction, the shield dropped and her heavy footsteps echoed as she broke into a run. 

-

Cassian whirled as he heard the footsteps. How had he not detected her approach earlier? Rhys’s power was still rumbling through the room. 

“I didn’t mean that.” Azriel said quietly. But, she was too far gone to hear that. 

“We need to find her.” Cassian fought to ignore the pure dominance rumbling from Rhys - the overwhelming power threatening to bring him to his knees. It abated, slowly. 

“I don’t think she’ll want to see us.” Azriel countered. 

“Tell me what the fuck happened between you.” Rhys all but ordered. 

They exchanged a glance. “You know about the letters.” Rhys nodded. They’d only shown him what she’d hidden and he could put the rest of the pieces together. 

“We … said things we regret.” At least he does, he can’t speak for Azriel. He’d seen her in the kitchen that day, and turned his back on her. There was more that happened Azriel hadn’t told him about. As much as he pushed, he was a stone wall - revealing nothing. 

“Why haven’t you fixed it?” Rhys carefully watched both of them. His brother’s eyes were almost black, and he saw the tentative leash on his power, threatening to break free and destroy anything posing a threat to his family - even if it’s them. 

“She hasn’t made an effort either.” The words came from Cassian. Suddenly, he felt … childish. Holding onto a grudge like this, foregoing friendship and something else that had built. He should’ve been the better person, to go to her and try and get both sides of the story - to let go of a stupid grudge costing him so much. Azriel was still quiet next to him. Rhys didn’t say a word, only studying the two of them. 

“Fix it.” It wasn’t quite an order. “Before it’s past the point of return.” 

Were they already there?

Alarm crossed Rhys’s face, eyes glazing slightly. His hand reached for the knife at his hip. He knew that expression - danger. 

“She left Velaris.” Rhys stood, shoving his chair back. “Find her.” That was an order. 

It had been months since the last threatening letter arrived - but immortals could be patient. A trap could be laying in wait for her, anywhere. Azriel was still trying to sniff out how they had eyes on her movements outside of Velaris.

“Any idea where?” Cassian asked. 

“I’m locked out.” 

He cursed under his breath. 

“I have an idea.” Azriel sighed, as if the situation was a mere annoyance - a fly fluttering around his head. Cassian fought the urge to snarl. 

“Be quick.” The worry in Rhys’s tone set him on edge. Azriel tensed as well, but grabbed on to his arm and winnowed them, traveling through the world through his shadows. 

The sleeping mountains. She’d told them they’d been used for healing in the past, and explored them before as part of her research, he and Azriel in tow occasionally. A pit settled in his stomach. A sense, tugged against his consciousness. One he’d never heard before, a soft and feminine voice pleading; find her. 

-

Clear mountain air filled her lungs as she winnowed to the first place she’d pictured. 

A sparkling, turquoise lake lay before her - dipped beneath two peaks. A lake for healing. One of the few places she could find complete peace. Where her thoughts seemed to float away, worries became insignificant, silence became healing. She settled herself on the edge of the lake, watching the water ripple across, tossing stones once in a while. The dew from the moss soaked into her dress, coating her legs as she kicked them out, resting back on her elbows. The midday sun was a warm glow on her skin, pleasantly heating her body. 

She tilted her chin up towards the sky, breathing in the fresh, clean, nearly untouched air. She let her mind drift, let the sounds of nature around her float in, acknowledged any thoughts - and let them go. 

The temporary peace was bliss, weights lifted off her shoulders - she felt her body calm for the first time in weeks, maybe months. Almost like a drug, she was high on the absence of how her mind went quiet for once. No memories beating against her mind, rattling and tightening her throat. 

Like everything, it was temporary as she heard the beat of wings. Loud in the way he was announcing her presence. The familiar scent hit her a second later, and her jaw clenched. Rhys had set up some way of notifying as she left the city. Boundaries, she needed to set some fucking boundaries.

-

He spotted her, propped up on her forearms - legs stretched out in front of her, the sheath of one knife. One. outlined under her dress. The midday sun set an ethereal glow around her, as if the light itself was drawn to her. Beautiful. She was beautiful, magnetic, and he hated how it drew him in. That wasn’t quite enough to abate his anger as he landed a few feet behind her, the slope set him a few feet above - towering over her prone form. 

“I didn’t know you were this stupid.” Cassian seethed. Any earlier thoughts of mending bridges disappeared. Her fists clenched as she stood, slowly turning to face him, but she didn’t meet his gaze - her eyes moved behind and a ring of white shown around them. The hair on the back of his neck stood up. In the split second, before he could react, a familiar wave of magic, her magic, shoved him to the ground. 

He was rolling, back on his feet - moving. He spotted Azriel landed ahead of him, no doubt his shadows whispering to him. It passed in minutes. Flashes. And it was over. They needed to leave now, the carnage and prisoners tied in front of them could be dealt with later. The archer, now dead, had come from the trees nearly one hundred paces away. 

It took a few seconds for him to realize her magic hadn’t joined the fray. 

-

A pained cry came from behind him and he swirled to see her, the tail of an arrow sticking out of her thigh as she fell to her knees. An arrow meant for his head. A string in his chest tightened, tugged, and his face went slack. 

Look, a voice had whispered. Beyond. Not at Cassian, she knew that. Her eyes scanned the horizon, magic starting to curl under her skin, reacting to a danger she couldn’t see. Treeline - the leaves shifted in the opposite direction of the wind, a small zing - her magic acted on its own, shoving him to the ground as a blur shot through the air. There was no question about it, no chance she could let that happen to him. Not only because he came after her, but she physically couldn’t let harm come to him. 

The ash arrow that would’ve gone through his head, lodged in her thigh. Magic left her at once, an empty stillness left behind. Azriel had landed as well, him and Cassian moving into action faster than she could think. Don’t look don’t look don’t look she chanted to herself, and palmed the knife sheathed on her thigh, a pained noise left her - it had gone right through the fabric and as she moved it she could feel it. Not lodged, directly through her leg. 

A pained and pathetic noise left her as she fell to her knees. The wood was slick, not like blood - something thicker. Hands shaking, she reached her opposite arm across to try and grab the knife - cut the arrow and get whatever the hell it was out. Wrong wrong wrong, her body seemed to scream. 

A hand gripped her wrist, Cassian’s face pale and raw. “Out,” she screamed, “I need it out.” 

“Hang on a second,” he murmured, examining it. Her body was barely holding her up, but if she fell backwards it would only push it further into her - push whatever was coating it around into her bloodstream.  Azriel was there as well, shadows swirled around her wound, examining. Two shields had surrounded her, tinted blue and red. 

Magic ripped shredded through them like paper. She knew exactly who that was, it sung to her like a familiar sound - echoing the magic she normally could reach. 

Her sister shoved Cassian out of the way, falling to her knees in front of her.

She bit the inside of her cheek harshly enough she tasted blood. 

Azriel’s hazel eyes met hers as he stood behind her sister. Something like grief, pain, and a hint of anger flooded through them. The normal cold mask had disappeared, replaced by raw emotion she’d rarely seen from him. He staggered a step back - his eyes going wide, pupils blowing. His expression mirrored Cassian’s from before. Then they looked at each other, some sort of silent communication passing before their expressions shifted back to neutral as they turned to examine the surrounding area. As they turned their backs on her, right when she wanted them most. 

A tear finally dripped down her cheek. . 

They turned their backs, again. That pain was more than the physical. That pain struck deep into her soul. He’d meant his words. If a friend was so easily discarded, were they friends in the first place? She was nothing to them, just as he’d said. At least she knows exactly where she stands with them now. The air is cleared. 

Mor’s frown followed her gaze - right at the two Illyrians, undoubtedly seeing the tears filling her eyes. She turned to her sister and saw the questioning look on the blonde’s face. She shook her head. Not here, not now, not ever. The last few months proved she didn’t need them. Want is different than need, and want she can overcome. As soon as she was well, she’d drag her sister back in the training ring. Luck or fate had him there in the nick of time, but she couldn’t rely on that. 

Mor had cut through part of the arrow with her magic - her hand now reaching to slide the arrow out, instinct guided her and she snatched Mor’s wrist. 

“Don’t touch it,” she snarled. 

“It needs to come out,” She replied, expression cautious. Gods, she wants it out … but a sense, something tickling at the back of her neck, tells her it’s a bad idea. 

“Pois-” she tried to force air into her lungs, tried to override the panic, but her sister's eyes had widened in understanding. Had the arrow been intended for her? Or designed to down whoever was in her path? 

“Just nod or shake your head,” Mor said softly. “Can you feel your magic?” 

A shake of her head. Mor’s mouth tightened and a small shield surrounded the wound - even as her sister’s magic seemed to recoil against it.

-

Cassian had to turn away from her, had to dig up every semblance of self control he could muster. The bond snapped for him and Azriel at the same moment - but he could see it in her eyes, it hadn’t for her. If he didn’t turn away right then, he would’ve done something abnormally stupid. Maybe Mor knew, because a shield had thrown up around the two of them, blocking out all sound and access. It’s likely Rhys was the only person who could break that down, or tear it away. Sometimes he forgot just how much power Mor has, of what the female was capable of. 

Rhys winnowed in, with a few quiet words he’d explained what he saw. Azriel stood next to them, one eye on the males still unconscious and bound a few paces away. They turned back in time to feel Mor’s shield drop. She met their eyes - and he could read the panic as clear as day. Her brown eyes glazed for a moment, before she winnowed out. 

“What?” He demanded. Rhys paused. Azriel had gone stiff next to him. 

“Some kind of poison.” He said under his breath and winnowed. Take care of this. House of Wind he spoke into their minds. Another clear order. 

-

She awoke to her sister pacing at the foot of the bed, burning a hole in her carpet. Y/n was laid on her side, arrow still poking from her thigh. 

“Don’t touch it.” Mor said, spotting her hand reaching for it. She withdrew it quickly, tucking her hand up into her chest. 

Normally, her sister's anxiety would increase her panic, but this time she calmed, like she needed to be the strong one now. Rhys came back with Madja, and she forced herself, promised herself she would keep her mind steady and centered. The lack of magic felt like a missing limb. 

The healer hovered over her, magic running different diagnostics as she asked questions she could barely answer. Mor explained what she could, still moving back and forth. 

“Good call.” Madja said to y/n, “keeping it in place.” She smiled weakly at the praise. 

“Getting the poison,” Rhys flinched at the word. Madja hadn’t explained exactly what it was yet, and probably for good reason, “is going to hurt.” Like hell. Her eyes had a silent question, do you want them here? She gave a slight shake of her head. 

Madja turned to them. “Both of you out. Keep a shield around here. Do not enter until I say so.” Their faces tightened, but they didn’t dare question her, only shooting a nervous glance to y/n. She nodded at them, looking more confident than she felt. 

“I can’t use any pain relief,” Madja talked her through it. She had spent hours watching the healer before. “I don’t know how it will interact.” 

“Do you know what it is?” her voice was hoarse and each word hurt like hell. Madja’s silence was an answer enough. She handed her a piece of leather. Y/n steeled herself, and dug her teeth into it. 

Her voice was hoarse from screaming by the end - like whatever it was was fighting to stay inside and she felt each droplet leaving, but the healer said she could only get what was clinging to the arrow, what was still clenched to her muscle. Anything in the bloodstream would have to come out the natural way. She’d moved quickly to get it inside a vial - out of the air and before it could make contact with anything. Because of that, it had to go slowly, in all it took around an hour. 

“Now the easy part,” she gave her a reassuring smile and yanked the arrow out before she could protest. Her teeth clenched, but soothing magic ran through the wound, stitching it back together. After what felt like an eternity, she helped her move to sit. Rhys must’ve asked her mind-to-mind, because the door swung back open the second she was situated.

Then - more diagnostics, more notes scribbled in between. Madja’s face was too neutral. 

“What was it?” Mor asked. 

“Bloodbane.” The two winced, although she knew they suspected it. She did, for certain, given she couldn’t feel her magic still. 

“How long?” Y/n asked. 

Madja clicked her tongue. “One week at least. It was a heavy dose,” she shot her a tight glance. “Once it wears off, you’ll need to be cautious. Your magic will come back in a flood.” 

“We’ll take necessary precautions.” Rhys assured her. 

She winced as pain echoed up her thigh, radiating through her body, and waited for the other shoe to drop.  Madja clocked her movement, and slowly added, “there was a small trace of modified hemlock.” 

Silence filled the room, and she could’ve sworn the temperature dropped. Modified? Madja, if she was unnerved, didn’t show it. Hemlock could kill in the right amount. “With the dose and the alterations, you can expect to feel sharp pains, perhaps just in your leg or body. Luckily it wasn’t a full dose.” Luckily. She supposed Madja was right - compared to the normal symptoms of that particular poison, she’d be grateful if that’s all she experienced.  

“What can you give her, for it?” Mor asked. 

From the brief studying she’d done on healing, and the books she’d read - y/n already knew the answer. “Nothing.” 

Madja sent her an approving nod. “We won’t risk any interactions. Nothing for the pain, no drugs, no alcohol.” Maybe this was the Mother’s way of scolding her - of calling her a dumbass. 

Madja clapped a hand on her shoulder. “Try to keep activity to a minimum. Drink plenty of water, let it run its course. I’ll come by twice a day for the first week.” 

She grimaced. If Madja’s insisting on coming twice a day. She’d be lucky if any of them let her leave the bed. 

The healer gathered her supplies and began to take her leave, Rhys walking her out. 

-

Azriel had escorted the leftover soldiers to Hewn City as he flew back to Velaris. Flying faster than he ever had, he realized - like the winds were adapting around him, encouraging him to move faster - faster. 

He landed on the balcony, Az a second behind him. “She didn’t …” his words trailed off, seeking confirmation. He shook his head. Maybe it was the ash arrow, blocking her magic and keeping her from realizing. 

“No.” He responded quietly. “She didn’t.” 

“Do we tell her?” Gods he’d thought about finding his mate before, thought about it a lot over the decades - they all had. He supposed it was some primal instinct in him, always searching for that connection. As soon as she’d taken the arrow for him, her magic working instinctively, he confirmed his suspicion. But, suspecting and feeling it snap were two very different things. 

“Not now.” 

Madja and Rhys’s conversation drifted through the open doors. 

“Keep a close eye on her,” she was telling Rhys, intending for the two of them to overhear. He noticed Azriel’s shadows swirling around him. “The Fae Bane,” he shuddered, “is significant. One week is the minimum.” She pinched the bridge of her nose. 

“I don’t know exactly how they modified the hemlock.” His fists clenched, some of that deadly rage returning. “But the intention is pain without permanent physical damage. Expect sharp pains, depression, nightmares, and possibly hallucinations.” 

“We won’t leave her alone.” Rhys promised her. 

She gave a nod. “No alcohol, drugs of any kind, tonics, or pain relief of any kind. Even if she begs for it.” 

Begs? Would she be in that much misery? His chest tightened. As mad as he might still be at her, the thought of her in agony is worse. 

“Understood.” He replied, as if he’d heard this before. Maybe Madja was sharing it for their knowledge too. 

“I’ll keep looking into it. I’ll be back in the morning” Her careful eyes fixed on them, nostrils flaring. “I need a word with these two.” She fixed a look at Rhys, who gave a quick bow and strode back inside, not bothering to look at them. 

“I’ll keep your secret,” Madja murmured quietly as they approached her. She’d scented the bond - on them? Or y/n as well? Nothing flew past her. “I’ll trust you two to take care of her. She won’t be herself.” Her words felt like a warning and a plea. 

“We will.” Azriel answered, in that cool and voice of his. Cassian was nearly trembling with built up anger and those protective instincts - ready to tear apart the entire house, kill any threat - perceived or real. “Tell me everything, please.” Azriel said mildly.

Madja, of course, picked up on it too - and gave them all of the details she could; in layman’s terms. Depression, nightmares, pain. He picked up on those three - the ones she put the most emphasis on. And instructed them to hide anything that might slow down the healing process. Although, he got the distinct sense the house might do some of that work for them. 

She left them with one final word of caution; “I cannot guarantee how much she will remember - if anything.” 

Rhys, as if sensing the end of the conversation, strode back through the doors. “I’ll take you back,” he said to the healer. 

-

Minutes later, Rhys returned looking drained. “I’m sure Madja explained everything to you.” In more detail than he could know. “I’m not going to force you to babysit her, but your assistance would be appreciated.” 

“She doesn’t need a babysitter.” Cassian countered. Azriel noticed with a hint of amusement that he’d bristled and come to y/n’s defense. 

Rhys only raised his brow, running a hand through his already disheveled hair. Azriel, so far, had refused to process just how close they came to losing her. That’s something he could think about later. “For the next week or so, she does. We can’t leave her alone.” Azriel read through that; he’s terrified of what might happen if they do. 

“I’ll keep eyes on her,” Azriel said with a soft menace. Like hell he’d let anything hurt his … his and Cassian’s mate. Even herself. Even if he still was pissed at her. He kept the neutral mask firmly in place, but part of him felt a bit ashamed at the relief in Rhys’s eyes. He’d harbored some doubt they would help. 

“We’ll work things out.” A rotation, he figured. They all still had jobs to do, duties they had to keep. Rhys or Mor would tell the priestesses she would be off for the next few weeks. Perhaps she could bring some work for her to do here, if she had any moments of lucidity. 

Gods, he had no idea what to expect - and that put him on edge more that he’d let on. Azriel worked on knowing everything, that was his nature. 

“Can anyone else help?” Cassian asked, but he could sense the doubt in his voice. 

“I don’t trust anyone else. Except Amren.” Something pricked the back of Azriel’s neck. He knew Amren wouldn’t harm her, but something about her always made him uneasy. 

Madja hadn’t oversold the side effects. Not at all. When they entered the room, minutes after their conversation with Rhys. Mor was already wiping a wet cloth against y/n’s forehead. 

Pale and wan skin, fists clenched and eyes squeezed as her leg seized. The scar was red and angry. A contrast against the rest of her skin, marring the otherwise untouched flesh. Reflexively, he looked at his own hands. Cassian, putting on a much better show than him, sauntered up to Mor and snatched the cloth from her, nudging the female out of the way. Her eyes dug into his back, but she promised y/n she’d be back later, shooting each of them a warning glance. 

-

They had the gods-damned audacity to show up, acting like everything is perfectly normal. Like they hadn’t torn her soul in half this morning. The day had been too much. So much happening in such a short amount of time, maybe two hours if that. Words, words were too difficult as she clenched her eyes shut - a pain, one she wasn’t sure was phantom or real - ripping through her thigh. 

A gentle hand ran a wet cloth over her forehead, she hadn’t realized she was panting. The bed dipped, and she blinked her eyes open to see Cassian sitting next to her. Worry radiated through his features. Where she could usually feel his or Azriel’s emotions … nothing. Maybe a side effect of her magic disappearing. 

“Talking can wait until you’re feeling better.” He offered. An olive branch. She didn’t want it, so she turned her head away from him. One finger gently pressed against her cheek, dragging her attention back to him - frowning. “If you’d rather talk now, we can.” 

-

She slapped his hand away, gritting her teeth through the pain to cross her arms over her chest. “Why bother?” Her voice was bitter. “I’m nothing to you.” 

Did they both say it in Rhys’s office? She couldn’t remember clearly. Everything was blending together, memories blurring in and out. 

He blinked twice. “That’s not true.” Her eyes slid to Azriel, and he gave a short nod. There was some sort of emotion in his eyes, one she couldn’t read. That pissed her off more. 

“It doesn’t matter.” She muttered. Not now, she told herself. It’s not something she can talk about now. There’s too much to process. What happened earlier … 

“You’re not in your right mind.” Azriel cut in. Her jaw dropped and her eyes rolled. “Why did you go off on your own?” His voice almost sounded pained. Cassian cut him a sharp look, hissing in warning. 

“I’m a free female.” 

“Nearly a dead one. If we hadn’t been there - the arrow still would’ve hit you, and you’d be gone.” Maybe he learned something from the soldiers already. Did he forget she saved Cassian? Well, he wouldn’t have needed saving if she hadn’t left. Her head shook, those thoughts were useless. 

“Not the time Az,” Cassian snarled, standing abruptly and shoving him towards the door. Azriel’s shoulders tightened, and he strode out the door, shutting it softly behind him. Uncomfortable silence filled the room. 

“You should sleep.” He finally said. 

“Then leave.” 

He let out a low edged chuckle. “I wish, but you’re stuck with me princess.” I wish. The words had the effect he wanted and she willed the tears away as she turned on her side, facing away from him. This might be the most miserable week of her life.

taglist: @infinitely-kate @foreverrandomwritings @anuttellaa @morelovemorepeacemoretattoo-blog @justasillylittlegoofyguy @starswholistenanddreamsanswered

[steddiealltheway]

Rockstar AU in which Corroded Coffin is slowly becoming more and more famous to the point that Dustin and Mike are STRESSING that after this next concert, the tickets will go through the roof with their pricing. So they have to go now.

Lucas isn’t as big of a fan, but he still wants to go. And Will takes any opportunity he can to hang out with Mike so he joins in on the need to go.

They all realize that they can’t drive, and someone will have to take them.

So they go about nagging Nancy who outright refuses no matter what they bribe her with. Jonathan apologizes because he has work that night and can’t call out.

All the boys agree that there’s no way they’re asking their parents.

Dustin reluctantly offers up Steve as their last option.

“No fucking way!” Mike yells. “He’s so fucking lame and probably doesn’t even know what Corroded Coffin is! I’d rather have my mom take us!”

Lucas points out that if Mrs. Wheeler goes, she will tell all the other moms about it, and the lead singer and guitarist Eddie Munson is known for his… unhinged theatrics.

Will hesitantly says, “I wouldn’t mind if Steve goes with us.”

Mike’s eyes snap to him. Will shrugs. Dustin prays that this will be enough.

“Fine.” Mike gives up. “But if they kick us out because of him, I’ll never let you live this down!”

“Mike, that doesn’t even make sense,” Lucas comments.

“He hasn’t even agreed yet,” Dustin reminds them, already heading out the door to ride over to Steve’s and ask. The others trail behind him.

“Like he’ll have any other plans,” Mike sneers.

The ride over is filled with Mike making rude remarks and the other boys asking what his fucking problem is.

“I just don’t want Eddie thinking we’re lame!” He finally confesses, praying that the cool air is enough to blame for the flush on his face.

Will catches his eye, and Mike nearly falls off his bike. Luckily, he can play it off since they’ve made it to Steve’s.

Dustin is ushered forward because he’s the favorite. He knocks and Steve almost immediately answers.

“Steve! Dude! How are-”

“Nope,” Steve immediately says, jutting his hip out, leaning against the doorframe.

Dustin gapes. “I didn’t even ask anything.”

Steve crosses his arms and looks around the group. “I know that look. It’s the ‘we need a babysitter’ look. I’m not doing it this time.”

Dustin pushes past him and the others follow behind him into the house.

“Hey hey hey! I didn’t even- take off your shoes at least!” Steve yells after them.

Will already has his shoes off while Mike rolls his eyes at Steve, begrudgingly taking his shoes off. Lucas apologizes. Dustin doesn’t even bother to untie his shoes.

“You have to take us to this concert. You owe me,” Dustin says.

“Owe you for what?”

“For… for telling me my hair looked good at the snowball dance!” Dustin exclaims proudly, complimenting himself on his improvisation skills.

All the other boys rapidly agree with Dustin while Steve tries to argue that it did look good. The conversation derails quickly into a general argument until Mike unexpectedly speaks up, “Alright! Enough.”

He digs through his backpack with alarming urgency and pulls out a picture of… Eddie Munson?

“We need to see him. This may be our only chance! And when I tell you that you were my last option, I mean that you were my last option. I would rather have my fucking dad take us! But they insisted it be you. You have to understand that begging you like this- this is rock bottom for me. But I beg you. Please take us,” Mike finish dramatically thrusting the picture into Steve’s hands.

“Dude, why the fuck do you have a picture of Eddie Munson in your backpack?” Dustin asks and the other boys join in egging him on.

They’re all oblivious to Steve’s little crisis over the image of the metalhead until he suddenly announces, “I’ll do it. I’ll take you guys.”

Dustin immediately yells and hugs him. Lucas and Will hug each other as Mike snatches the image back and stuffs it into his backpack again - face beet red.

“Wait, when is it?” Steve asks breaking the hug.

Dustin stammers out a few, “Well, it’s funny that you asks… so funny actually. Hilarious. Funniest thing I’ve heard all day…” All the boys make their way to the front door.

“Dustin…”

“It’s tomorrow night at ten! We’ll be here at nine!” Dustin yells immediately rushing out the door and slamming it behind him.

The boys all laugh as the rush to their bikes, hearing Steve yell, “Always the goddamn babysitter!”

-:-:-:-:-:-

Nevertheless, Steve rushes into his car at 9:05, while Dustin and Mike scream that they’re going to be late as if it’s the end of the world. About ten minutes into the ride, Mike finally notices what Steve is wearing.

“Uh, Steve. Please tell me you have something on under that,” Mike groans.

Steve glances down at his yellow sweater and asks, “What’s wrong with this?”

This sends Mike spiraling while Dustin laughs, “You’re joking, right? Tell me you’re joking.”

Steve shakes his head. Dustin joins in with Mike’s breakdown.

When they get there, Steve realizes what they mean. In the venue - that is on the surprisingly smaller side - there isn’t a single person who isn’t sporting either a t-shirt from the latest album Hellfire or wearing all black.

Steve sticks out like a sore thumb. The people around him give him looks, but he doesn’t really care since he’s never heard of Corroded Coffin. Besides, with him standing a few rows away from the stage, there’s no way the band would spot him.

The opening band is alright and gets the crowd really going to the point where Steve can see why none of the kids wanted one of their parents to bring them. He gets lost in the general vibe of the place, reminding him of a way more intense version of the big high school parties he used to go to. He knows Dustin would kick him in the shins if he told him that.

Once the opening band walks off stage, the lights go out, startling the audience. “What the hell-” Dustin says before loud chords play out with a flash of lights.

Steve catches Will and Mike holding hands in one flash and in the next they’ve broken away with red faces.

Steve would laugh fondly at the pair, if there wasn’t a sudden spotlight on Eddie Munson. And fuck he’s gorgeous. His eyes flicker over the crowd, and Steve swears that his eyes narrow when he looks toward him, but there’s no way he can see anything in the spotlight.

He sings into the mic, and Steve’s heart beats a little faster. Thank you kids for making him take them here.

A few songs in, Steve is relaxing into the music which isn’t his usual taste, but there’s something about Eddie that… makes him want to hear more.

There’s an odd pause between songs when Eddie begins talking to the audience. He pulls his hair in front of his mouth and is… oddly adorable. He seems to get flustered by the crowd while simultaneously radiating with all the praise.

He introduces each band mate and gives them a look before saying, “They’re going to kill me for this, but we’re going to do something new tonight.”

One member - Gareth - gives Eddie a look like not again.

The audience waits in anticipation for Eddie to announce whatever scheme he’s thought up. “Ladies, gentlemen, and everything beyond and in between… we’re going to invite someone to the stage.”

Steve laughs as Mike and Dustin fight to get Eddie’s attention.

Eddie takes his time, holding his hand above his eyes to block out the stage lights and actually observe the audience. Eddie laughs darkly into the mic. “I won’t lie to you guys. I had this person picked out from the moment I saw him. Welcome Mr. Yellow Sweater to the stage!”

Steve’s heart drops in his chest and everyone around him turns to him as if they’re going to murder him - especially Mike. Dustin, Lucas, and Will, on the other hand, excitedly shove him along, ushering him to the stage.

Steve makes his way to the edge of the stage and looks up to see Eddie holding his hand out. Steve takes it and perfectly scales the stage, ending up right up in Eddie Munson’s personal space. “Well, hello there, pretty boy. What’s your name?”

Steve is thankful that only he can hear Eddie’s words. “Steve,” he manages to choke out.

“Steve, please tell me you spilled something on your shirt and this was the only thing left for you to wear,” Eddie says.

Steve looks down at his sweater once again because hey, what’s wrong with his sweater? He shakes his head.

“You keep getting better and better…” Eddie looks him up and down.

The drummer yells, “Eddie! The fans are getting restless. Get on with whatever this is!”

Eddie shoots him a apologetic look and tugs Steve towards the microphone. “Everyone, meet Steve the exact person I pictured when writing this song.” The crowd begins screaming as a few notes ring out. Steve has never heard this song in his life but it somehow sounds familiar.

Eddie pulls a stool forward and whispers, “Take a seat, sweetheart.”

Steve immediately sits down and prays that his face isn’t as red as he imagines it to be. Eddie shamelessly eyes him up and down as he sings some song about a place like Hell called The Upside Down with demobats, strange vines, and what sounds like the budding romance with a stranger.

It’s weird as fuck, but somehow Steve just gets it.

As the final notes ring out, Eddie looks off as if he’s recalling some memory or trying too. He shakes his head and says to the audience, “Let’s give another round of the applause to the poor soul I dragged up here.” The audience roars with applause that confuses the shit out of Steve, but luckily it drowns out Eddie saying in Steve’s ear, “Meet me after the show at the back right door.” He cocks his head towards the back at Steve’s left.

Steve immediately replies, “Okay, but I have four kids with me.”

Eddie’s eyebrows shoot up.

“They’re my… friends.”

Eddie stares at him in disbelief and huffs out a laugh. “You’re full of surprises, Steve. I’m happy to meet them.”

Steve nods at him not knowing what else to do and makes his way to the edge of the stage and hops down. As he makes his way back to the kids he can’t help but think what the fuck just happened.

All the boys are yelling, asking what he said to him and why did he choose him and is he nice and…

“He said he wants to meet us after the show,” Steve says first.

“What did you say to him?!” Mike shouts.

“I told him that we couldn’t because Wheeler here has a strict bedtime.”

All the boys’ jaws drop, and Steve is actually afraid Mike will murder him. “I’m kidding. I said we would,” Steve says nonchalantly leaving out the part where Eddie had rendered him speechless after asking to just see him.

The rest of the concert passes pretty quickly, and Steve tries not to get his hopes up that the winks Eddie gives the audience are all directed at him.

As Eddie wishes everyone a goodnight and makes his way off stage, Steve’s heart starts pounding in his chest. Mike and Dustin are frantically trying to appear cooler than they are while Lucas and Will try to muffle their laughter. Steve guides them towards where Eddie had told him to go, going directly against the flow of everyone exiting the venue. 

Steve looks around, making sure no one else is following them and pushes the door. It swings open and Steve steps through expecting some sort of security to be blocking him but… there’s no one.

There’s a loud shout of “Holy fucking shit!” chanted over and over again down the hall, with more people joining in. Steve follows the noise cautiously until he gets to a door that is slightly cracked. Sounds of squealing, laughter, and floorboards creaking - from what sounds like people jumping up and down - ring out through the crack.

Steve pushes the door open and is met with a startled shout that comes from none other than Eddie Munson. “Man, you’ve got to get better security in this place,” Steve says without thinking but Eddie’s bandmates are nodding in agreement and shouting out things like “That’s what we’ve been telling him!”

Dustin pushes past Steve and gets down on one knee to bow and say, “My lord,” he stands up and continues, “I am Dustin Henderson. Huge fan.” He holds out his hand and giggles as Eddie bows back and shakes it. 

“Pleasure to meet you, Dustin. Never change.”

Dustin’s smile widens into what is an almost terrifying grin of joy. Steve turns to find Mike gaping at Eddie, frozen in place. 

Eddie smiles at Mike and asks, “And you are?”

“Mike,” the boy chokes out. He clears his throat. “Mike Wheeler.”

“Good to meet you, man,” Eddie says, resting a hand on his shoulder and squeezing briefly.

Steve’s heart warms at the interactions, he turns around to find Will and Lucas nearly hiding behind him. He nearly tells them to get a grip, but he knows what it’s like being under Eddie’s gaze for the first time and can’t blame them.

“Eddie, this is Will and Lucas,” Steve introduces them as if Eddie’s one of his friends or something. 

Will blushes when Eddie shakes his hand, and Lucas makes a comment about loving his work which Eddie thanks him for.

“Well,” Eddie says, “I can’t wait to speak to you guys more, but I’m going to request a few minutes with Steve here. If that’s alright?” Eddie holds eye contact with Steve who looks at the other kids first - who are all urging him to say yes with their eyes - then he nods his confirmation. Eddie tries to hold back a smile. “I hope the rest of my band can provide entertainment that isn’t lame.”

“Hey, fuck you, man! What do you mean your band?!” Is the general response from the other members before the four boys are firing questions at them.

Eddie pulls Steve into a small dressing room and closes the door. Steve doesn’t know what he’s expecting but it certainly isn’t Eddie’s response. “I’m so sorry, dude. I- I don’t what came over me up there,” Eddie’s face has dropped and he’s fidgeting with his rings looking endearingly awkward. He continues pacing and going on, “I just saw you, and, really, stage Eddie is a huge flirt, but I’ve never singled someone out like that before. And you clearly aren’t even a fan. Are you a fan?” Eddie questions, eyes narrowed, invading Steve’s personal space.

“I am now,” Steve replies, glad that his charm has suddenly made a reappearance. Eddie blushes and he pulls a strand of hair in front his face. Steve finds him absolutely adorable. 

“I guess I just wanted to apologize... again. You’re just... so familiar, and I needed a closer look. Because... I meant what I said about you. You’re exactly who I pictured and... Fuck, I’m coming on way too strong right now.” Eddie sits down in an uncomfortable looking foldable chair, burying his face in his hands.

“You know,” Steve says slowly approaching Eddie, “I hadn’t even heard of you or your band before those kids showed up at my door yesterday.”

Eddie sarcastically replies, “Thanks.”

Steve shakes his head. “No, that- that’s not what I mean. I mean... I almost didn’t take them here. I truly didn’t want to.”

Eddie looks up and smiles amusedly at Steve. “You’re really digging yourself a deeper hole right now.”

“I-” Steve sighs and grabs the chair closest to him, drags it directly in front of Eddie, and immediately sits across from him, so they’re eye to eye. “I wasn’t going to until Mike showed me a picture of you. And something in me told me I needed to go; you know? That I somehow had to meet you. And that song, man, it was so fucking weird-” Eddie snorts. Steve continues, “But I understood everything you were saying as if it was... weird deja vu or something. I don’t know.”

Eddie holds eye contact with him for a few moments, searching his eyes for any lies. He shakes his head and sighs, “I know exactly what you mean. But maybe we’re both crazy.”

“Maybe,” Steve replies. He boldly grabs Eddie’s hands and holds them in his. He glances down at their hands and smiles. Then, he catches sight of his watch and more specifically the time. He shoots up. “Shit! I have to go. The kids’ parents are going to absolutely kill me if we don’t head back soon.”

Eddie stands and nods at Steve. Neither of them wants to leave each other’s company. Steve frantically looks around and spots a pen. He scribbles his home number onto Eddie’s arm and rushes out of the room. “Guys, we need to head out.”

“What? Why?” Mike asks, and man that kid needs to keep that attitude in check.

“Check the time,” Steve suggests. The boys look at their watches.

“Shit, shit, shit,” Dustin says then turns dramatically towards the group. “Gentlemen, it was lovely meeting you, I can’t wait to see you again one day.” He nods his head and rushes out the door. The other boys hurriedly say their goodbyes and rush out. 

Steve holds eye contact with Eddie for a moment then hurries after the boys. He wonders when he will call. 

(Oh gosh... is this... unfinished??? I meant to finish it. Anyways, Eddie definitely calls Steve and when they meet up again Steve is like “How the hell do you still have my number on your arm?” and Eddie nonchalantly replies, “I got it tattooed so I wouldn’t lose it.”)

[xclowniex]

EUROVISION DRAMA UPDATE

Baby Lasanga went on a podcast and talked about some drama which happened regarding Israel. It was in croation but the official translation is:

"This is the first time I’m actually talking about it. We were standing in line to join the flag parade, and everything was fine. The Irish representative and the Greek representative were standing there, and just then someone passed by and filmed a video; I guess it was someone from the Israeli delegation. Bambie started shouting at him, ‘Don’t film me!’ They yelled like an angry dog! And added that it’s a ‘celebration of love and peace’ while drooling… and everyone was really shocked. I bit my lips trying not to laugh. They talk about a celebration of love and peace while shouting and getting angry, just unnecessary drama. In the end, Bambie, Nemo, and I don’t know who else ran to the room and started crying. What’s going on with you guys? This is supposed to be Eurovision…”

“I don’t know why Bambie, Marina, and Nemo were so upset with the Israeli delegation. The Israeli delegation was not a nuisance at all, at least from what I saw. And regarding Bambie’s claim that they film her, there are cameras everywhere and everyone is taking pictures of everyone. It just amused me that she shouted about peace and love while behaving with anger and frustration.”

PLEASE DO NOTE WITH TRANSLATION: The Croatian phrase which has been translated as "angry dog" does not hold as strong of a connotation in Croatian as it does in English. It is used to emphasize severe anger, and does not mean rabid with anger, as a lot of english speakers have assumed it does.

So, what this means is:

A lot of allegations surronding the Israeli delegations actions were likely blown up, and made to seem worse than what they were

At least a portion of the claims of the Israeli delegation filming people is likely them filming Eden Golan or each other and contestants being in the background which was standard for other contestants to be in the background of any delegations videos, aka not out of normal behaviour for any delegation

Any complants brough to the EBU about the Israeli delegation had no rulings made on it, meaning that they were found unjust aka they didn't break any rules

Bambie Thug was so unprofessional that they were suspended from the flag parade in the finals due to their own behaviour, not the Israeli delegation's like they claimed

Bambi thug is a major sore loser considering their comments after the finals

What the implications of this is;

Bambi Thug is either antisemitic or xenophobic - depends on exact motives, which we do not know

Bambi Thug is also immature as they purposely lied and/or made things out to be way worse than they were to garner sympathy and/or to paint the Israeli delegation as these big bad evil people

Considering Marina was present during at least one of the situations, and still supported Bambi Thug, we also know that Marina either does similar behaviour to Bambi Thug, or thinks that behaviour is okay

The biggest thing out of all of this, is that the Israeli delegation was made out to be super evil and bad, and so much effort was put into protraying them this way, and all that effort has gone to waste because someone decided to speak out about what really happened.

Baby Lasanga also isn't even the only person who is proof of the delegation not being cunts the entire time. käärijä, in a now deleted video, was seen being nice to Eden Golan and even danced with her to his track from last years eurovision backstage. käärijä had the Israeli delegation take down the video after he recieved backlash for it and he also released an apology very similar to baby lasanga's statement.

Baby Lasanga's statement for the podcast was

"I won't beat aroud the bush and I feel like I have to respond because I owe that to the ESC community. I didn't feel like I had to express this online, but now I see that there's some confusion about it. So let me say it: U condem the actions of Israel's government. I bow my head to palestine and it's victims. I keep them in my prayers every night I go to sleep. Likewise, I will truly give my best to help those wounded by this horrigic tragedy. Love Marko"

My take aways from this are:

He can seperate citizens from their government like a normal fucking human being should

He also assumed that people would be able to do that too, but alas they weren't and he had to release a statement

He still stands behind his comments during the podcast

For anyone wanting to interact with this post, please note that this post is not about whether or not Israel should or shouldn't have attended. Whilst it is part of the overall wider conversation, I am not talking about that as eurovision already happened, Israel competed. This post is purely about how the Israeli delegation was treated and drama going on about that. Please do not start talking about whether or not Israel should have been allowed to compete.

[mcflymemes]

AS SAID BY DORIAN PAVUS  *  assorted dialogue from dragon age inquisition, updated version

i don't care what they think about me. i care what they think about us.

i like you. more than i should. more than might be wise.

discretion isn't your thing, is it?

all this dancing, politics, and murder makes me a bit homesick.

i suppose it really depends. how bad do you want to be?

living a lie... it festers inside of you, like poison.

i'm a man of many talents. what can i say?

the moment i saw you, i thought "there's a man who knows quality."

if you don't come through this, i swear i'll kill you.

i'm curious where this goes, you and i. we've had fun. perfectly reasonable to leave it here.

here is my proposal: we dispense with the chitchat and move on to something more primal.

i tease you too much, i know.

i'll have to find something we can do that doesn't involve teasing.

time to drink myself into a stupor. it's been that sort of day.

i see you enjoy playing with fire.

i like playing hard to get.

i'm not suggesting we venture into mutual domesticity.

if it's a trap, we escape and kill everyone. you're good at that.

talk to me. let me hear how mystified you are by my anger.

oh, i'm not arguing. just pointing out the ridiculously obvious.

if you choose to leave your door unlocked like a savage, i may or may not come.

now... what was i talking about? ah, yes. me.

i am apparently an incredible ass at accepting gifts.

i prefer the company of men.

would you prefer me bound and leashed?

sometimes the ones you love are also the ones who disappoint you the most.

you are the man i love, [name]. nothing will truly keep us apart.

the things you ask are just... very personal.

sometimes... love isn't enough.

there will always be an "us." we'll just be... farther apart, for a time.

i had no idea something like you was possible.

i'm imagining what you would look like in a dress.

i've never seen you smile so much!

i have no idea what you're talking about.

you stand there, flexing your muscles, huffing like some beast of burden with no thought save conquest.

you're shaping the world for good or ill. how could i aspire to do any less?

my footsies are freezing, thank you.

don't you ever bathe?

you're not suggesting we're similar.

watch where you're pointing that thing!

i'm not wearing a skirt.

it's significantly more impressive than hitting them with a sharp piece of metal.

i only meant to say i'm very sorry for your loss.

we can continue this dance forever, if you wish.

i'm saying we should be careful what we assume when it comes to such matters.

demons don't appreciate a man with good hair.

what i wouldn't give for some proper wine.

your outfit's entertaining. i'll give you that.

he had to leave early on account of assassination.

it's nice to know you have friends.

i'm here to do what is right.

come on, just answer the question.

they were asking me about you. personal things.

you said we'd be ass-deep in trouble. this is more like knee-high.

so what's your estimation? think we can win?

you can't call me pampered. nobody's peeled a grape for me in weeks.

you startled me. you're always so... nondescript.

you're a special and unique snowflake. live the dream.

i wanted to see you make flowers bloom with your song. just once.

you've done a lot less dancing naked in the moonlight than expected.

i've never seen anyone in this part of the world do it.

i realize there's more to you than that.

have i offended you?

for hating the outdoors, you sure seem to like bad weather.

i can't figure you out, [name].

you don't play their stupid game, they send an assassin or three your way.

i can't believe you're scared of magic.

i'm going to take that as a compliment.

still don't like me, [name]? after all this time?

[name], i owe you an apology.

i suspect people will use any excuse to hate us.

why be ashamed? power should be respected, not swept under the carpet.

maybe you're not a complete moron.

i just need to know you're capable of higher thought. for my own comfort.

it would take work. and soap. lots and lots of soap.

[ultravioletrayz]

Hello! So this is my idea and this is going to be angsty as hell *coughs* sorry-

Anyways, I was thinking of an idea where female spider person s/o almost failed the mission and Miguel, being the harsh jackass as he always was -_- was scolding her to death till he said something very hurtful to s/o.

She was really hurt by his words as she painfully accepted it and walked out of the office then she headed back home with her gizmo, till three weeks have passed and she wasn't really active at all. Her friends like Gwen, Jess and Peter tried to contact her but she wasn't answering it.

Miguel and her friends decided to check up on her and visit her world, till they found her badly and bloody injured like so many wounds on face and her arm was gone from having a fight with Lizard and she won. They sent her back to their infirmary while she was unconscious and doctors tried their best to stop the bleeding.

Miguel was too guilty of what he had done and started to apologize to her

this is so sad but I love it so much. this is gonna be a continuation of your idea, where Miguel and reader are in the infirmary.

Pairing: miguel o'hara x f!spiderperson!reader

Warnings: 18+, ANGST, lots of guilt from miguel, mild blood warning, sad medical stuff, mild hurt no comfort

Summary: miguel spends weeks drowning in the guilt of almost getting you killed

A/N: I actually suck at writing angst 🫡

Word Count: 1.5K (unedited)

Miguel stands in the infirmary, the sterile scent of antiseptic filling the air, mingling with the sharp tang of adrenaline still coursing through his veins. The fluorescent lights cast a harsh glow over the room, highlighting the stark contrast between the pristine white walls and the chaos of the medical team working frantically to stabilise you.

Their movements are precise and hurried, a blur of scrubs and instruments, each step a dance of desperation. Bandages wrap around your wounds, but the sight of your blood staining the sheets sends a wave of nausea crashing over him, the crimson liquid a stark reminder of his failure. He should have been there. He should have prevented this.

Three weeks. Three weeks of silence, of guilt festering in his chest like an open wound, a wound that refuses to heal. He had pushed you away, scolded you harshly after that mission, the words spilling from his mouth like poison, each syllable a dagger to his own heart.

“You’re not good enough,” he had said, the coldness of his voice cutting deeper than any physical injury. The moment the words left his lips, he had seen the hurt flash in your eyes—a fleeting glimpse of the pain he had inflicted, a pain that now echoes through his soul. But it wasn’t until now, seeing you broken and battered, that he truly understood the weight of his words, the gravity of his mistake.

As the doctors work diligently, Miguel paces the small room, his mind a whirlwind of regret and anger— anger at himself, anger at the situation, anger at the villain that had done this to you. He clenches his fists, the sharp edges of his claws digging into his palms, drawing blood, a physical manifestation of his inner turmoil. He wishes he could turn back time, and erase the moment he let his frustration overpower his concern, but time is a cruel mistress, and she offers no reprieve.

A doctor approaches him, her expression serious, her eyes weary from the battle they’ve all been fighting. “We’re doing everything we can, but she’s lost a lot of blood. It’s critical that she stabilises soon.”

Miguel nods, his throat tight as he swallows down the rising panic, the fear clawing at his insides. He steps closer to you, his heart aching at the sight of your unconscious form, your skin pale against the stark white sheets. He reaches out, brushing a stray hair away from your face, his fingers trembling slightly as he does so, the touch almost reverent.

“I'm sorry. I’m so sorry, mi alma,” he whispers, the words barely escaping his lips, a mere shadow of the apology he knows he owes you, an apology that feels woefully inadequate in the face of your suffering.

He remembers the moments you shared, the laughter that filled the spaces between missions, the way your eyes sparkled when you spoke about your dreams. He had been so focused on being the perfect leader, on maintaining control, that he had forgotten to be the partner you needed, the partner you deserved.

As time drags on, the hum of machines and the hurried footsteps of the staff create a haunting rhythm in the background, a symphony of desperation that echoes through the room. Miguel’s mind drifts back to the last time he saw you— your expression, a mix of hurt and resignation, as you walked out of his office. He should have run after you, should have told you how much you meant to him, but he had let his pride and anger cloud his judgement, and now he is left to bear the weight of that decision.

Hours pass, the sun sinking lower in the sky, casting shadows across the room, shadows that seem to mirror the darkness in his heart. Miguel remains by your side, his presence a silent vow to protect you from now on. He watches the rise and fall of your chest, counting each breath as if it were a lifeline, a fragile thread connecting him to the hope that you would awaken. The rhythmic beeping of the machines becomes his new heartbeat, each sound a reminder of your fight, your strength— even in this vulnerable state. The fluorescent lights flicker slightly, casting an ethereal glow over the scene, and Miguel leans forward, his heart heavy with unspoken words.

“You know, I’ve never been good at this,” he admits, his voice barely above a whisper, trembling with the weight of his emotions. “Apologising, I mean. But I need you to know that I’m sorry for what I said. I was an idiot. I let my anger get the best of me, and I hurt you.”

He pauses, searching for the right words, knowing that nothing could truly convey the remorse he feels. “You’re so much stronger than I gave you credit for. I should have believed in you. I should have been there for you.”

As he speaks, tears prick at the corners of his eyes, a rawness in his throat that threatens to choke him. The memories flood back— your laughter ringing through the air like music, the way you had seamlessly moved alongside him in battle, your unwavering determination that had always inspired him.

He watches your face intently, searching for any sign of consciousness, any flicker of the spark that makes you who you are. The machines beep softly, a steady reminder of your fight, yet with each passing moment, the silence stretches, thick and suffocating, wrapping around him like a shroud.

“I miss you,” he admits, his voice thick with emotion.

“I miss your laughter, your determination. I need you to come back to me.” The words spill out like a prayer, a desperate plea to the universe for your recovery, for a second chance to make things right.

Minutes turn into hours as he remains by your side, the weight of his guilt pressing heavily on his shoulders. He closes his eyes, allowing the memories to wash over him— the way you had smiled when you swung through the city, the way your spirit had illuminated even the darkest of days. Each recollection is a bittersweet ache in his chest, a reminder of what he stands to lose if you don’t wake up.

“Miguel,” a voice breaks through the silence, and he jolts upright, his heart racing as he leans closer. You’re stirring, your eyelids fluttering as you fight against the haze of unconsciousness, and hope surges through him like wildfire.

“I’m here. I’m right here,” he reassures you, his voice breaking with emotion, clinging to the moment like a lifeline.

You blink slowly, confusion clouding your gaze, a mixture of fear and pain etched across your features.

“What happened?” you croak, your voice weak, each word a laborious effort.

“Lizard… you fought him. You were incredible,” he replies, his heart swelling with pride even amidst the worry that tightens his chest. “But you got hurt. You’ve been unconscious for a while.”

You wince, a flicker of pain crossing your face as the memories come rushing back. “I… I remember fighting. I thought I could handle it.”

Miguel’s heart clenches at your words, a deep-seated fear gnawing at him. “You can handle anything, but you shouldn’t have to do it alone. I should have been there. I didn’t believe in you when I should have.” The admission hangs heavy in the air, a confession of his deepest regret.

Tears well in your eyes as you search his face, the vulnerability in your gaze cutting through the tension in the room like a knife. “You said… you said I wasn’t good enough.”

The words hang between you like a dark cloud, and Miguel’s heart sinks, the reality of his past mistakes crashing down on him.

“I was wrong,” he says, his voice thick with emotion, trembling under the weight of his remorse. “I was scared, and I took it out on you. You deserve so much more than what I gave you. I’m so sorry.”

You swallow hard, the tears spilling down your cheeks, each drop a testament to the pain he had caused. “It hurt, Miguel. It really hurt.”

“I know,” he replies, his voice breaking, the anguish in his heart surfacing like a tidal wave.

“And I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you if you let me. Just please… don’t shut me out again. I can’t lose you.” The desperation in his voice hangs in the air, a silent promise that he is willing to fight for you, for your love, for a chance to rebuild what had been shattered.

The two of you share a moment of silence, the weight of the past lingering in that small infirmary room, amidst the beeping machines and the antiseptic smell. Miguel realises that he is ready to do whatever it takes to prove that he can be the partner you need, the partner who believes in you wholeheartedly.

But as you drift back into a fragile sleep, Miguel sits by your side, his heart empty at your lack of reciprocation, the void of uncertainty swallowing him whole. He knows he’s lost you now, and it’s all his fault. The guilt festers, a relentless ache that refuses to fade, and he vows silently that he will not rest until you are back in his arms, where you belong.

i think it's problematic that i would've forgiven him in a heart beat lmao

[webslingingslasher]

could we possibly get some frat!peter x reader domestic bliss after they become official?

i scrapped this, but it fits what you called for

You stopped Peter’s hands on your hips, holding them steady, you broke the kiss before he could pull them off. 

“I’m on my period,” you mumbled against his mouth, in turn he pushed you off his lap, his hand wiping across his mouth. 

“Yuck!” 

You whine at his reaction and paw for his hands so you could intertwine them, he bats yours away and gags. 

“You can’t kick me out during shark week anymore! I’m your girlfriend now!” Peter stops fighting your hands at your claim and you nosedive into his chest, wrapping his arms around yourself. 

“You use that word to get you out of everything now.” 

You trace his facial features with your index finger, running down the bridge of his nose and over his bottom lip. 

“It comes with the territory, aren’t you so glad you asked me?” 

Peter lifts his neck up and gives you a kiss softer than you’re used to, you stay puckered after he pulls away. He follows you back in for one more chaste kiss. 

“The gladist, even if you’re a human ketchup packet right now.” 

You bite at his shoulder for the chirp, he whines and shrugs you off with an “ow!” You smile into his skin and place a barely there kiss as an apology. 

A sudden cramp makes you hiss, you nuzzle into Peter’s chest and breathe him in. The pain radiates out your back, you curl in tighter to your boyfriend. 

Peter’s hand grazes down to pull your shirt up, when it’s bunched to your neck he slowly rubs down your back and dances his fingertips up your spine. You hum and smile into his skin, a treat you’re not used to. Situationship, hookup Peter wouldn’t dare touch you so intimately without the guise of sex beforehand. 

 “How’s my girl feeling?” 

Your stomach clenches but not from a cramp. 

“‘M okay, thank you.” You’re not thanking him for checking in, you’re thanking him for being there for you and comforting you the best way he can. 

Peter rests his palm on your lower back, his body heat seeping in and bringing momentary relief. While one hand supports your back the other one was brought to your head, his fingers scratching at your scalp and you melt even further into his chest. 

You sigh happily, “such special treatment, is this because you’re my boyfriend now or cause you feel bad for me?” 

He doesn’t answer your question directly, he presses a kiss to your hairline. “You can get a cuddle anytime you want, trouble.” You accept the answer and twist so you're tucked into his side instead. Your finger traces patterns into his chest. 

“Guess this one,” Peter focuses on your touch, he hums when you stop. “Cat?” 

“Yes! Hold on… what about that one?” 

“Bunny?” You shake your head, “dog.” Peter scoffs, “big ass ears,” you poke your finger into his ribs, he yelps and pinches your side. 

“One more, ready?” Peter pulls your hand to his face and presses a kiss, “now I’m ready.” 

It’s a distinct shape, one that makes his breath catch.

“Guess?” 

Peter shakes his head, you figured this would be an easy one. You draw again, he closes his eyes as you do it. 

Right on his chest, where it normally lies, you drew a heart. You’re none the wiser to his panic, you smile brightly at him. 

Rather than answer he flips you so you’re on your back, his finger draws a heart over your own, then places a kiss in the center. And right when you think he’s going to bust at the seams, make a loud declaration, he nuzzles into your neck and blows a raspberry. 

“Peter!” You try to push his chin away, he doubles down and races a hand over your rib cage and you laugh as he attacks you in a tickle. 

You laugh and roll around trying to get away from him, at the last second you groan and hold your tummy. Your boyfriend stops and looks you over, “cramps?” 

You nod and pout at him, Peter flops with his back towards the bed, then pats his chest. You follow the call and before you could lay next to him he stops you with a raised hand. 

“Shirt off,” you raise your eyebrows but listen to his command. When you present your naked chest his arm scoops you up and presses your head into his chest. 

You snuggle in and kiss his opposite bicep, his hands rubbing themselves up and down the slope of your spine, pausing when you melt into him and letting his heat ooze into your skin.